


Inseparable

by BekiBi



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Cybertron, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Fusion, Fusions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MMBOY, MegaStar - Freeform, Multi, Robots, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, cybertronian relic, cybertronian relics, everybody loves KOSS, everybody loves steve the eradicon, knockout x starscream, knockstar, ko x bd, ko x ss, kobd - Freeform, koss - Freeform, koxbd, koxss, megss, relics, robot love, robot lovins, transformers fusions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-10-01 14:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10192100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BekiBi/pseuds/BekiBi
Summary: Starscream has to retrieve a relic for Megatron. Knockout is sent as backup. The two find themselves suddenly tied together in an unimaginable way, bound and trying hard to grasp their situation and perhaps work together to free themselves from this new prison.Breakdown has to cope with their ultimate replacement, Koss, who he has to accept as a seemingly permanent fixture on the Nemesis.Megatron suspects nothing but foul play from this newcomer and feels he can root out his plan, and in trying to reveal his true motives only torments his newest possible asset instead of embracing what he could bring to the table.Steve the Eradicon gets lucky. : D





	1. Rocky Start

**Author's Note:**

  * For [birbteef](https://archiveofourown.org/users/birbteef/gifts).



> Koss is a creation of Birbteef who is a fantastic artist and writer. This work is a gift that I hope they enjoy!

** Rocky Start **

 

The chilled air bit against their armored plating, slats of metal drawing tighter together subconsciously to trap heat close to their protected protoforms. Starscream was scowling and pretending to listen as Knockout carried on about how dreary this project was, being stuck in the mines with the Vehicon as they dug for more than energon deposits. He’d been there less than a day and he was absolutely done, and he wanted everyone to know exactly how little he wanted to do with this project. On a normal day, a ‘good day’, Starscream would be following up behind him in swift agreement, but this was a sour day indeed.

The Decepticon Air Commander had been hunting through this mountain for far too long looking for ancient Cybertron Relics to appease his Lord and Master, Megatron. The warlord was leaving this as the Second in Command’s ‘final chance to prove himself’ and Starscream would rather not return to another lashing, either verbal or physical.

“Are you even hearing me, Starscream? You can’t tell me you’re happy about this either,” the cherry red medic huffed, flicking a piece of unwanted dirt from his chest plating and blowing on the spot to chase the remaining dust after. “This is just ridiculous, sending US in to supervise the drones. I’m sure you’re enjoying the time away from the big M regardless,” he smirked to himself, continuing to preen himself while rambling. “Lately he’s been down your backside more than usual. Did he catch onto some other idea you’ve been cooking up behind his back? You really haven’t been including me lately, you know, it’s starting to hurt my feelings.” Knockout finally raised his gaze to find Starscream’s back facing him, wings shaking and fists at his sides, armor almost rattling. “Er… Commander?”

“WOULD YOU MUTE IT?! I have had it up to HERE-” the jet’s arm shot up high above his head, “With your whining and complaining! My issues with Megatron are NONE of your concern!” He growled, leering over the sports car, Knockout’s chin tucking down as he did. “You will stick to YOUR squadron he sent in with you and leave ME to MY WORK, is that understood DOCTOR?!”

Knockout drew his derma down in a small hiss, looking over to the idle insecticons that had been given no more instruction that to stay out of the medic’s way when they arrived in the mine. “Scream, please don’t make me, they’re so… _clingy…_ eugh.” His shudder was genuine, having a strong dislike for the slobbering beasts.

“Commander Starscream,” the seeker corrected in a low hiss, “and too bad. Get out of the way or I’ll include in very explicit detail just how much time you’ve been wasting bothering me.”

“Touchy,” Knockout huffed, daring to still show his attitude to his higher up, but he turned on his polished heel and strode away, arms folded across his chassis. He knew something was eating away at the other higher officer but normally Starscream would have complained to him about it openly by now. Whatever it was it was certainly souring Knockout’s mood since he couldn’t milk a modicum of sympathy from Starscream for his own plight of being sent into the cave where he wouldn’t be able to get away to take a long relaxing drive without someone seeing and ratting him out.

The reality was Starscream was tense and wary of not being able to find this relic, all the while being stuck underground without a sky overhead, sun on his wings, the air even felt stagnant. Being cooped up on the Nemesis for ages and then sent underground was borderline torture for the seeker, surely Megatron knew this and everything the warlord was sentencing Starscream to was intentional for his latest transgressions. He just needed either an unprecedented large scale energon score or an actual relic he’d been sent to find and he would be back on the surface and in Megatron’s good graces!

He hovered over any of the purple mechs that weren’t actively digging, instructing them to start new tunnels at all ends and angles and barking angrier demands if they protested about structural integrity. Knockout was left to order the insecticons start tunneling wherever they could to be of use. They didn’t seem to listen until he made the presence of his prod known, bothersome thing that was. Rumbling and clicking bitterly they would shuffle off and start scraping into the rock and dirt, making their own burrows to seek anything of interest.

Hours and hours of digging, filth, stagnant air, and nothing to show for it but sour moods and the desire to freshen up. Knockout found himself a fairly dry boulder to sit on, no sooner had he done so was a slender shadow cast over him, fiery red optics narrowed down at him. With all the effort he could muster he let his helm fall back and a long, loud sigh drag out from his vocalizer.

“Puh-leeeeease Starscream, just one moment of rest? I’ve been on my pedes for ages in the medical bay and then came down here for more of the same, I’m just as exhausted as you are.” He brought his helm back into proper position, albeit canted to one side and with a brow ridge raised gave a small huff. “And when was the last time you’ve refueled? You look about as terrible as me pedes feel.”

Starscream invented deeply, ready to berate the other but he hardly had it in him at this point. The medic had a point. He sighed in almost equal measure to the doctor’s earlier display of exhaustion and stepped closer, shoulder pauldrons lowering as his shoulder’s slumped. He did a prompt about face when he was close enough and dropped himself to sit beside Knockout, bumping their hips together with a petty ‘move over’. He said nothing to the doctor, not even as a grin pulled at the other’s lips.

“Someone tired of being so grumpy?”

“Must you always speak with such familiarity?”

“Must YOU always put on such airs around his subordinates?”

Starscream gave a defiant harrumph but there was perhaps a hint of amusement in it. He folded his arms lightly across his silver chest and looked around, making sure none of the drones took his sitting as a sign that they could rest. The pair would sit together in silence, seeming to come to peaceful resolution with their attitudes by just giving the other the comfort of their presence without saying anything to further annoy each other. It was during this break that one of the insecticons warbled proudly, alarming the Decepticon drones but raising echoing calls from the other beasts.

Knockout stood to go investigate, keeping his shock prod in hand just In case the need arose for it. “And just what is all the commotion about, here?” The hulking con was surprisingly direct and stooped down to hold it’s large servo out to the medic. There was a clump of rock and dirt with some sort of metal sticking out. He didn’t seem interested and the insecticon whined, insisting he take it. “You think this is a relic?? Fine, good job,” he picked up the relatively light chunk of earth and waved his prod at the other, “but you get back to digging until I can confirm this.”

He took his time returning to the boulder he and Starscream had rested on, turning the clump over in his servo and examining it. He was about to call over when an overall rumbling in the caves around him had him halt and look around, seeing dust and rocks sift down from overhead. Concerned for their safety but also his paint he growled and would ask if they could leg it now that they found SOMETHING. Starscream was already being hailed by one of the drones, unfortunately so the medic would just take a seat while the commander dealt with his own troops.

“Sir I really don’t think this is a good idea to keep digging,” the drone tried to explain without overstepping his boundaries.

“Well isn’t it fortunate for you that it isn’t in your job description to THINK?! Now until you have something of true interest to the mission I suggest you GET BACK TO WORK!” The drone would back away and slink off to resume his previous position at a huge drill, informing the others assisting him that it was no use.

Starscream turned to see Knockout playing with dirt, of all the impossible sights he could behold. “Should I even ask?”

The doctor looked up to the seeker and offered the clump. “One of those slobbering oafs brought it to me. Here, its yours.” Starscream hesitated but accepted the ‘gift’. Seeing the metal he began to pick around the edge. He could already see runes etched in the thin smooth metal.

“KNOCKOUT!” The medic jumped to attention. “KNOCKOUT THIS- THIS MIGHT BE IT!” He quickly picked and scraped, revealing it was smaller than he thought, a band rather than an entire heavy piece of equipment. Disappointment swiftly overtook his brief moment of hope, a frown settling over his face. He growled as he heard tiny snickers coming from his compatriot. “Not a word...”

“Oh now, commander, I’m sure that could pass as some form of primitive… jewelry. Go ahead, treat yourself? You’ve earned it.” He finally gave a short laugh, cut off by surprise when Starscream whipped the metal band at him, the piece ricocheting off of the red mech’s helm and earning an offended shout from him. The slim band clinked down on the ground and rattled, settling finally and giving off a tiny yet noticeable glow. There was a pause and silence between both Decepticon officers for a few seconds as they took in what that tiny luminescence indicated. The two looked to each other and within the next moment both were scrabbling over to pick it up, shouting and claiming rights.

“What are you doing?!” The jet shrieked, “This was my mission to find a relic!” Starscream attempted to push Knockout back but the medic grabbed around his waist, digging his heels in to halt his commander.

“You CLEARLY didn’t want it,” Knockout countered, “ _ **I**_ should be the one to bring it to Megatron! Besides it touched me last!” He didn’t care how petty it sounded; pettiness was exactly what this was about. He dared to pelt him with the relic and then think he could just take it back? Certainly not!

Starscream turned this way and that, trying to shake the red medic from himself. “Would you let me go?! You’re being insufferable! You were sent to assist ME! You won’t go without credit if that’s what you’re after!” Knockout didn’t want to admit that the normally over the top Second in Command actually had a valid point.

“Well… you’re going to apologize.”

“PUH-! PARDON?” Starscream glowered down his torso and finally grabbed onto Knockout’s servo to attempt prying it off of him.

“HEY HEY WATCH THE GOODS!” The medic’s sensitive hands were his undoing and he relented, falling back onto his aft and holding his strained servo to himself.

Victorious, the seeker stood a little taller and dusted himself lightly as if to brush away any offensive remnants left behind by being grabbed by the medic. “Well, now that this whole matter is settled, I’ll be sure to keep your little outburst between us, and I don’t think I’ll be apologizing. You were sent to assist me, you did so, and I thank you,” he bowed his head and gestured his arms theatrically just to rub it in the medic’s face that he was in the right.

Porcelain face contorting into in offended frown, Knockout bit his tongue to keep from lashing out. He wanted an apology for the other throwing the relic at him, valuable or not it was uncalled for and rude. He stood and huffed. “How gracious, _sir_ ,” he said with every lack of respectful inflection he could muster.

“I trust you can handle the cleanup now, I’ll leave you to it.” Seeing the air commander retreating already in that cocky sashay of his, intending to leave him in this hole in the ground, reignited his irritation and he cursed under his breath at the other. He had thought they had at least some sort of camaraderie between them but this was just petty on both of their parts.

He was so busy fuming he didn’t notice the large insecticon approaching him until the beast warbled behind him. Knockout was nearly startled out of his rims, spinning around and revving his engine so loudly it nearly choked out.

“Pray tell what is so important you dare approach me without so much as a warning?! Making that awful noise of yours--!” A large clawed servo swooped down and he took a step back, watching as it opened up to show a piece of dusty metal. He could hardly believe his optics. Was this…? It was a second band? Identical to the previous one but not nearly as packed into dirt. “How many of these things are laying about??” He plucked it from the insecticon’s palm and looked it over, then glanced up to the large bug. “… Very well then, Good fellow.” He patted the large servo and the insecticon actually seemed to perk up, warbling and lumbering away to go tell his brethren of his good job.

The medic pulled a standby mesh cloth from his subspace, always keeping a few on standby for just such an occasion. He began to idly wipe his new artifact clean, looking up to see if he stood a chance to catch up with the jet. Perhaps he could usurp his moment of glory before Megatron? Wait until the Second in Command was finished presenting their lord with his relic before showing his own? Oh it would be lovely to see the other fall short in some way, but even as he approached the other he felt his animosity fading.

It was rather boring being so spiteful all the time and it was only fun in the moment, really. Perhaps he could offer this relic to Starscream as well, get him to stop his competitive thinking and redact his order to stay with the cleanup? The sooner his pedes were off this mud planet the better.

Starscream was tapping his pede and waiting impatiently for one of the drones to respond and either send a ground bridge to him or drop the massive pickup conveyor tube somewhere outside the digging site. He had slipped the finely inscribed band over his wrist and was admiring it, turning his arm over this way and that, the band only sliding so far up his arm due to the brackets holding his missile in place. The Air Commander chanced a look back and his wings dropped almost immediately.

He could see Knockout sauntering over with a cloth in hand, probably cleaning his hands after having been grabbed by the jet. He could only imagine the medic thought him filthy, some lower being unworthy of being the Second in Command. He would show them all. He led them for years before Megatron was revived, blast it. These errands would soon lead to greater things, he was sure. It was hard to be patient and being tested by his lessors was not making it any easier.

Knockout called out his name with that semi-sweet tone that indicated he might have something interesting in store but Starscream hardly wanted to find out what it was now. Starscream’s thoughts and Knockout’s calling was interrupted when the ground shook and swayed hard to one side, many of the Decepticons shouting and tipping over. Knockout had fallen forward onto his front, the metal band held tight in his servos. Starscream’s long legs had jumped apart to keep steady, wings hiked high and twitching in his momentary alarm. Things seemed to settle and he straightened himself, allowing himself to calm down and enjoy the sight of Knockout cursing and patting over his chassis, tiny scuffs from hitting the ground.

Starscream swung a leg around, the momentum pivoting his body to face the inside of the cave and the irritable medic. He strode over with a haughty smirk on his face. He had cooked up something quite rude and snide to coo down at the other but he choked on his words when he saw what was held tight in the other’s clawed servos.

“Knockout, is that-! A second relic??” His optics whirled and focus sharpened, darting between it and the one perched over his wrist. His processor spun this new information through his relays, paranoid mind working out every feasible reason for such a strange coincidence. How awfully convenient that there were _two_ identical artifacts in the same tunnel system, for them both to surface at the same time after so much digging without success. Were they a matching pair? Was this a setup by the Autobots? It had been a multi-day operation but at no point was the mine entirely left abandoned or without guard.

The medic was beaming with pride now, putting aside his displeasure over his mussed paint. “It looks like we’ll both be able to bask in Lord Megatron’s good graces after all today, _mon commandant_.” Starscream felt a growl rise up from deep in his throat and as it came out it shook him, a fierce jerk of his fists downward and pede stamping the dirt, his new impromptu jewelry clinking around his wrist.

“KNOCKOUT!” The sharp caw of the medic’s designation had crew pausing their shutdown of operations, helms turning to see the juicy drama the two Decepticon officers never failed to deliver. The seeker was stalking closer to the red speedster, fists now balled up and planted to his hips, hunched forward like some sort of tungsten-turkey intent on pecking someone’s optics out. “I do not have time for your games, what is this?!” He lashed a hand out for the metal band the medic held but it was moved back and out of his reach.

“Exactly what it appears to be, Commander Starscream,” the racer’s engine was purring with smug pride even though he had put in little (read as NO) effort into the actual find. “A second relic, courtesy of the insecticons _I_ was charged with bringing to this little excavation.” It was far and in between that he could get a leg up on Starscream and it would seem today was just going to be one such kind of day, though not if the jet had anything to say about it; and Starscream _always_ had something to say.

“Give it.”

“Pardon?” Knockout looked aghast and drew his arm and the relic closer to himself, shielding it with his other hand as well. Starscream’s long talons stretched out, turning palm up and moving close enough to make his intent clear. The mech was losing his patience and took a steady invent to try and steel his nerves, letting out a slow sigh and wriggling his digits insistingly at the medic.

“You are going to hand over that trinket,” he began calmly, “you are going to _smile_ , and you are going to THANK YOUR LUCKY SPARK that I’m leaving you in one piece for complying!” As the irritated seeker’s tone raised itself to a screech his body also reflected his imposed authority. His wings were flared, his plating raised up where it could and he had stepped very close into the other’s personal space. He let his usually closely held EM field flare in warning, the violent energy nearly crackling over the medic.

Knockout reflexively flinched back but a defiant frown soon overtook his brief look of surprise. He took a step back but then turned to walk around him rather than continue to give the angry higher-up more ground. This act of defiance was the final turn that snapped Starscream’s last bolt of patience.

In a flash of muted silver and glossy red the pair were tussling over the second relic like a pair of scraplets over the last sliver of metal in existence. The two nearly shameless officers tugged at the metal band, each trying to get both servos within their side of the loop. Starscream dug his pointed heels into the ground, stance wide and snarled as he pulled from his right side toward his center.

On the opposite side of the relic, Knockout had a disadvantage in the height department so he had to think smarter, not harder. Rather than widening his stance he kept his pedes together in front of himself. His arms were outstretched in before him as well, interlocking his digits together in a bear-trap of a grip. Each tug from Starscream only served to secure the medic’s treads into the ground.

“How?! HNG-!” Starscream’s shouting was down to brief exclamations and grunts as he pulled until his shoulders ached. “How are you still putting up a fight?!” The Cheshire grin that spread over Knockout’s face was almost enough to bring the jet’s temper back to a full broil.

“Oh but you forget,” Knockout started in an almost sultry purr, a jerk from his opponent on their prize nearly throwing off his tone, “You’re playing tug of war with a _field medic_. I’ve hauled bots bigger than Breakdown across the battlefield. The only -HMPH-!” He paused when Starscream began to yank in short bursts to try and loosen the medic’s hold. “The only reason I haven’t already knocked you on your aft, COMMANDER,” he seethed the title out as though the fact it belonged to Starscream tainted the word, “Is because I would hate to see you scuff up your paint job.” He smirked when his snide comment visibly struck a nerve in Starscream.

His wings flinched higher and the subtle move threatened Starscream’s balance. It almost seemed as though Knockout would win this immature battle until Starscream decided to start playing dirty, as he was prone to do.

“HM… Its a pity I don’t share the same sentiment.” He tipped his his wings back harder and took the calculated risk of raising his back most pede, bending his knee and taking aim. He lashed his long leg out, sharp heel driving itself against Knockout’s chest, barely missing his headlight and scraping the paint down to the bare armor just beside it.

“YOU--!! YOU SCOUNDREL!” His red optic rings were nearly blazing and Starscream’s smirk was gone, his furious EM field withdrawing and shrinking into a mild panic. He’d made a mistake. He was toe-to-toe, or rather servo-to-ring-to-servo, with a suped up MUSCLE CAR with buzz-saws for hands. He did not think this through.

The cherry sports car revved his engine loudly, rumbling the ground and blasting the sound through the cavern. Unstable rocks loosely rattled on the ground around them. Knockout used the wheels in his pedes to try a rarely used trick, activating them and reversed with a sudden extra burst of strength. The force of the movement pulled Starscream out of his stance and off balance. The jet caught a hold with his stiletto pedes once more and his engine roared in turn, reflecting his anger at the other for daring to overstep his boundaries and not backing down.

The battling roars and revs between them garnered even more attention from the remaining drones and insecticons in the cave. Seeing the two officers looking as if they’d drag one another into a pit to duke it out was everything they could’ve wished for in seeing the two go at it. Admittedly some had probably imagined them clawing at each other in a mini pool filled with oil, but not everyone’s exact fantasy could come true at once. The vehicons exchanged looks of uncertainty, no one exactly calling base to get any further backup or to notify their leader, the insecticons would idle by, chittering curiously and just observing for the time being.

“Give him a KO, KO!” One of the mechs shouted out.

There was a burst of short laughs at that, but then the idea gained some traction. These two would probably never mention their scuffle to Megatron, why not enjoy the fact they couldn’t get reprimanded for partaking in something they’d claim never happened? The cheers grew and they were almost unanimously in the medic’s favor. Someone smaller that Starscream putting him in his place? You couldn’t PAY enough for that kind of entertainment! If the commander saw fit to throttle them, the medic was the one who’d patch them up anyway.

“Get ‘im, Doc!”

“Make Megatron proud!”

“Get one in for me!”

There were various taunts and cheers, none of which sounded like they were in Starscream’s favor. The distraction served to pull him off balance all the more and suddenly the two toppled over, the jet landing on top and trying to sit up. Jagged corners of his knees digging and scraping on the polished racer’s chest as he used the leverage to sit on top of him and yank at the other’s bangle, or rather HIS bangle that Knockout was trying to pilfer.

“You are more stubborn than a sparkling with a rust-stick!” Knockout admonished, though he didn’t feel any more mature himself with all of those lackeys rooting for him. It did, however, boost his ego.

Low growls and rumbles tumbled over the walls from the cave’s opening, rattling loose rock and making the ceiling quake. The insecticons were growing incense with all the excitement and adding their own unique calls to the shouts of the drones, growing in bass and volume until they were warbling, the strange noise echoing through the tunnels and rattling in the bickering officer’s audials.

Finally sensing something amiss when the rumbles started to shudder the two on the floor, Starscream eased his pulling and let his arms rest while outstretched so he could stare down the dark depths of the tunnel while not losing his fight for the relic.

“You idiots, BE QUIET!” He tried to listen but instead found his vision rotated and wings slammed back into the rough unforgiving ground, now trapped beneath him. He hissed as he glared up at the offender, Knockout, who had taken his chance to roll the pair so he could pin he commander beneath him.

The small crowd of underlings whooped and hollered at the literal turn of events. Clawed insecticon pedes stamped and vibrating deep bellows erupted again and again from their massive frames. Their mandibles clicked and wriggled in excitement. The vehicons were applauding and encouraging the fight all the more, calling mainly for the medic with so much passion one would almost think they’d placed bets on a real pit fight.

Knockout was getting perhaps a little too carried away with an ‘adoring’ crowd cheering him on. “Hear that, Screamer?” He grinned down at him coyly as the jet continued to writhe and struggle to be free without losing his grip on the metal band. The dust falling from far above was settling over his face now and forcing him to shutter his optics repeatedly to clear them, squinting when they were open.

“You DOLT,” Starscream seethed up at the cocky medic. “You’re so… so foolhardy! You’re going to get us both throttled by Megatron if you don’t-” He bucked his hips up once, “-Get-” a second push upwards and Knockout felt himself start to fall forward a little too much, “-OFF!”

The third and final thrust tossed the Decepticon doctor heels over helm and onto his own back. The angle on his back tires have him some leverage and he pulled the ring, still being clung to by Starscream, until their helms were crossing crests. The contact seemed to startle the jet and just like that he released the relic, bolting upright and dusting himself off. His wings were fanned in an angry display and twitched irritably.

While Knockout rolled himself upright and dusted himself, taking inventory of each little scuff as a personal insult, the drones continued to cheer at the medic’s victory. Neither officer would admit they felt embarrassed for acting like newsparks unwilling to share a toy and in front of the soldiers no less!

“ENOUGH!” Starscream ordered, tone full of gravel and rage. The mechs stifled their cheers, quickly stepping over themselves to evade the air commander’s wrath. Wings still twitching and optics glowing ominously, he rounded on Knockout, marching toward him and delighted internally when the medic seemed to be startled.

“Are we going to have a problem, DOCTOR?” He leered over the red sports car, lip curled in a snarl.

“ _I_ don’t have any issues. I have what’s rightfully mine to present to our lord, after all.” He swiveled the metal ring around a single servo as a final sprinkle of haughtiness over the other after his ‘victory’. He could see Starscream’s optics zero in on it, the focus sharp and still so very, very angry. Then, just like that, Starscream shuttered his optics and leaned away from Knockout and the relic.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” the jet cycled a ventilation, armor he hadn’t realized was ruffled began to smooth down. “Such a mess you’ve made of-” he flinched when something plunked off of the top of his head. Optics were snapped back on and glaring at Knockout, who turned his helm upwards.

The roof of the unstable cavern was releasing far more debris than could be deemed safe and the two shared a look of instant dread. For once the two were completely on the same page.

“RUN,” was all each said to the other. Normally the motto was every man for himself but each of them held something that, if not brought to their lord together, would result in a furious lashing. Even if one was buried anew with the officer carrying it, the relics were a matching set and either Megaton knew and this was a test or he didn’t know and one of the pesky drones would let it slip and word would get back to the tyrant.

Their legs began to move before their processors could even register the chaos around them. Things seemed to slow in their panic, the tremors of the cave rippled the earth beneath them as even more rained from above in clumps.

Why didn’t they transform? Why didn’t they just get out of there earlier? Why had they been so petty? Where was their usual camaraderie they reserved for their time shared in the medical bay?

The lip of the cave began to descend, the gap of light shrinking at an alarming rate and threatening to gobble up the pair running for their sparks toward the exit. Just as the last shimmers of light were being blotted out by falling rock and earth, there was a burst of light from between the two Decepticon officers.

Something bright appeared between them, _from_ each of them to be more precise, and the sources seemed to pull at each mech. Not forward to freedom, but rather toward one another and slowing their escape. There was only time for a glance between them, the light shining too brightly in the encroaching darkness. Everything shook, everything fell, nothing seemed to be grounded by physics anymore.

Starscream’s arm was pulled across himself, passing over his chest and violently swinging him out of step. Knockout’s arm was equally erratic, his grip on the ring never ceasing and only for the brief moment before realization struck did he see the relic was the source of sudden brightness surrounding the two. The two bands connected and there was blinding white all around them.

Confusion.

Desperation.

Noise; so much noise.

It was so bright.

Then darkness.

The noises were muffled and fading further and further away.

Everything became incredibly heavy and there was no point trying to fight the weight of a collapsed cave.

* * *

Soundwave stepped back from his console, head raising and glancing around as if startled, or as surprised as the expressionless intelligence officer could appear. He turned and approached Megatron with purpose, his strides quicker than they might be with any other news. Quicker than the importance of a new energon site, more swift than the decoding of another artifact’s possible location, and far more urgent than if an Autobot were at their doorstep.

Megatron had been idle that day, mostly waiting for his newest tools in the war to be brought to him by his troublesome Second in Command, sending the medic with the Insecticons that admired him so to assist. He was sure the two were blathering away to one another about all the ill treatment they suffered, bonding as emotional mech were known for doing. The noticeable pedesteps approaching him roused him from his thoughts and he turned, expecting to see a drone offering a report but was slightly surprised to see his Third in Command approaching him.

He didn’t have to ask what it is the other was wanting to tell him, the data began flickering across his screen faster than was normally acceptable. “Soundwave, you'll have slow down.” He was more curious than annoyed, reserving his more callous nature for those deserving of it. Soundwave turned to his station and Megatron began to walk toward it, giving the other the go ahead to lead him back.

Standing before his station the stealth flier raised his slim, long arm, reaching to the map indicating flickering spark signatures of many drones and insecticons on site of the massive relic excavation site.

“Autobot attack?” Megatron scowled and wanted answers, NOW. He would not lose these relics to… Soundwave moved his hand quickly upwards, the list of recently lost signals.

Starscream. Knockout. Both designations listed as possible casualties. Both of their signatures had flickered out at the exact same time. The silence that fell was surprisingly heavy. Megatron couldn’t lose any of his officers, not like this, not unprepared and with tools for his war at stake. The scarred warrior took a step back from the monitor, arms going behind his back as he restrained his rage. He wasn’t prepared to send Soundwave, to lose such an asset in a surprise attack would be embarrassing.

“Sir-!” A vehicon barked out to both of his higher commanders. “We’re getting multiple transmissions from survivors at the latest site, there was a massive collapse. They’re reporting Knockout and Commander Starscream were fighting inside and--”

“ENOUGH.” Of course. Of COURSE those two idiots couldn’t be trusted. Who needed enemies to destroy your goals when you had useless buffoons for soldiers under your command to do it for them? “Send reinforcements to dig them out, then bring them to me, functioning or otherwise.” He wouldn’t admit he still held some feint worry that the two hadn’t made it, but knowing it was a collapse put his mind more at ease that they were simply too buried to be picked up on their scans.

Soundwave still seemed rigid, however, staring from what anyone could assume, at the two names on the list of lost sparks.

* * *

 

Everything was so heavy. How was he not dead? Visions of falling debris, of his legs not carrying him fast enough? Why didn’t he just fly… no drive? Fly, he used to fly? Right? No. He could, but he… changed? No, he… Did?

Images flashed of Starscream’s face, then Knockout’s. He could see them both, like an out of body experience. Were they both seeing this? No, just him. He.. Who was he? He could see all they had seen. Was this the end of it all? Was he one with the Allspark? Did The Well really feel like the bottom of a rock pit?

His processor was flooding with so many questions, too many to pick through and try to answer. He was still pinned down, regardless of his swimming thoughts. He onlined his optics first and was relieved at the familiar red glow they shone over the rocks before him. UGH. ROCKS. Of course, he was buried but at least he could tell he was alive.

He could hear the drones above alongside bustling insecticons, the jagged chunks of earth being pulled and rolled over, stone hitting stone and metal scraping against the filthy earthen minerals.

The dust was settling into his vents and making him refrain from ventilating too deeply. He tried to find his positioning, hoping he wasn’t in an embarrassing angle. Last thing he needed was to be uncovered aft-up and crushed to death by dirt.

He shuddered at the thought, frame scraping the tight solid space’s walls. He could feel his engine starting to rumble, trying not to rev. Was it rev? Did he _rev_ now? Yes. He didn’t want to rev and further disturb the rock around him, he was sure the incompetent vehicons would cause enough damage without his help.

Why did Breakdown care for them so? Wait, why did he even care what Breakdown thought about them and how did he even _know_ how the brawler of a mech FELT about such nonsense?? He growled and there was a loud rush of air pushed out of his vents. His engine kicked up in spite of himself.

Pointed claws found purchase beneath him and only dirt and rock met his grasp. No metal bands. The relics were gone and it fueled his growing irritation. Could today get any worse? More redundant questions. This one answered itself in the form of rocks sliding under the weight of an insecticon’s pede.

Without much thought the buried mech gave an enraged roar, turbines-TURBINES?-yes, _turbines_ came to life as well, pushing dust away and forcing a cloud of it up though the seams of his temporary prison. Vehicons and insecticons alike backed away from the trembling portion of rocks, and not a moment too soon.

The mass of tattered terra heaved and bowed as if it had come to life, the low growl and mock-steam only adding to the effect. Claws pulled against the solid surfaces, crying screeches of metal echoing out from the gaps in the pile of fallen rock.

Like something out of a nightmare, an arm jutted upwards, grasping the leg of the nearest vehicon and earning a terrified scream from its vocalizer. After the initial terror the mechs organized and dug out the area around the arm, going further and organizing a lumbering insecticon to dig the worst of it off their fallen officers.

Victorious and shockingly looking unscathed for the most part, at least he rose. Wings stetched out and flexed, tasting their new freedom. The other bots stepped back, and if they didn’t have visors then surely their optics would have been wide with shock and confusion.

Blasters were raised in loose unison, and the heckles on every insecticon raised with hisses from all sides to this standing mech. This was curious indeed.

“What do you think you’re doing.” It was not a question. His tone was low and even, it was an order. He demanded to know just who these mechs thought they were, raising weapons to him. The smaller purple troops exchanged what could best be described as worried glances before looking back to the larger mech. Weapons lowered by only a few inches.

“What have you done with Knockout and Commander Starscream?” One spoke up, barking the question but lacking an ounce of authority to make it sound demanding enough. It was an interesting question. What _did_ happen to them? It finally occurred to him to look himself over and he looked… he looked AMAZING, if he did say so himself.

Strong wings at his back, sleek back and front. His armor spilled over itself in layers, reds and silvers, black and small accents of white and gold, all coming together to drape the tall mech in in a glossy cape of lustrous plating. For someone who just climbed out of a tomb of grime and dirt he shone as if he had just walked out of a body shop with a fresh repaint. The grin that parted his lips was purely devilish and proud as he gazed upon what he could of himself.

“Ooh, hello me.” He purred and turned this way and that to get a better look over himself. His overall design just called out to him: FAST. He looked fast. He FELT fast. The protoform beneath was even stronger than he’d ever felt before. One pede out, then back and checking the angles and curves it formed. Behind him his wings lifted and tilted in his growing excitement at this sparkling new frame. What was this feeling, he wondered?

Powerful.

It echoed out to him from within, someone handing him the answer. That was convenient. He should answer himself more often. His torso was not as slim as it had been, but it still tapered in a way that appealed to his nature. He wouldn’t say he was _vain_ but he _did_ like certain things. He very much liked himself right now.

Attention turned to his arms now. The relic. It was still there, but entirely as new as this body was. The band was like a ring worn about his central most servo. That accounted of one of them. He looked to his other arm and servo and spied the second, looking like a form-fitted bracelet and almost seamlessly fit to the plating on his forearm as if it was integrated into the plating. Very interesting.

A familiar chuff of air against his neck made his spinal strut crawl and he turned his helm slowly to face the over-curious insecticon that had come up to him. Its mandibles raised and lowered out of sync with one another, the smaller pair clicking on its ever-bared sharp dentae. Its visor pulsed dark, curious red, so deep it was burgandy and shimmered. Its visor was also close, _too_ close. Was it leaning in? No, it was smaller. A quick scan of the room found all of them were smaller!

No, wrong again! He was TALLER. His sly smirk returned and he willed himself into a casual, relaxed tone as he turned more fully to acknowledge the beast. They always had taken a shine to him when he was smaller, or when he was his smallest, and red and sweet and charming. Knockout. Did this beast take him for Knockout?

“Can I help you?” Again his voice was a smooth purr, his hips cocking to one side and servo coming to rest on it as he looked the spiny mech over. Being acknowledged was an exciting turn of events and the insecticon crooned low in its throat, perhaps its chest, and tilted its helm, mandibles going all the wilder at the attention he was given.

“You’re going to have to come with us,” the answer came from the other side of the tall mech, back from the vehicon that had initially addressed him. The drone sill had his blaster pointed toward the strange and imposing new bot that stood where their Decepticon superiors should have been.

“I never said I wasn’t intending on going back to the Nemesis, did I?” He tutted and wagged a finger, turning to the group at the mouth of the cave. “So presumptuous!” There was a tense quiet in the pitiful remains of the dug out cavern in spite of this mechs teasing voice that was intended to lighten the mood. When there was no easing in the tension the tall mech continued to address the Decepticon soldiers.

“I’d actually like to pay a visit right away to our dearest leader. We wouldn’t want him thinking we fell behind and caused a cave-in or nearly killed his CMO or Second in Command, would we?”

The swift lowering of weapons and parting of mechs was his answer and it was a fine answer indeed. He strode slowly and confidently with these new legs that carried him tall and proud past the drones on either side of him.

By the time the final lift to the warship had been filled the vehicons had deftly gotten word up to their brothers that had been left on board via private comm channels. The Nemesis was buzzing with intrigue as this fascinating and gorgeous, though odd guest made his way on board.

He could hardly wait to see the look on Megatron’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any typos. I have no beta reader and my computer program I write on has spotty spellcheck!


	2. Naming Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakdown struggling with the newcomer. The newcomer struggling with himself. Struggle trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't use a beta reader so I apologize in advance for any typos. I've edited a few in the first chapter as well.

**NAMING FRIENDS**

 

 

Megatron’s face was tense, almost a hint of confusion but it was overruled by his firm overtone of anger. Disappointment radiated from his field, washing over the gobsmacked crew around him. All eyes were on this new arrival.

The new arrival wouldn’t have had it any other way. He basked in the radiance of their awe over him just as he had done for the first time only moments before. He was fortunate enough to have passed through the lift on one of its cleaner days. His reflection as he ascended into the ship was captivating. He didn’t blame a single one of them for looking. He wanted to look, too.

As delighted as he was he knew this was a time for seriousness. His expression was neutral, focused on the matter at hand as his leader looked him over.

“So, it would seem I have one less body to fuel...” Megatron’s tone only darkened from there, helm tipping back so his fiery optics peered down at the stranger standing across his bridge from him. His position on the raised deck was really the only thing allowing him the vantage point of being able to look down his nose at the other. He was taller than he would have preferred a strange new mech to be on board his ship without his approval.

“It would also appear that my relic is lost due to an unfortunate… turn of events..” He watched the other carefully, his field almost crackling and just daring the other to lie, just as Starscream would in this situation.

“One less body to fuel, yes, and our turn of events was more of a downright disaster, but the relics are safe and sound,” the mech spoke eloquently, having a hint of Vosian grace with Knockout’s base to the voice. He stood unflinching, proud and patient before the Decepticon warlord. His statement earned the raising of an optic ridge from the battle worn leader. The deep lines on his face seemed to draw down with his growing frown. He sensed there were games afoot with this one, and he didn’t like games.

“Then why are _they_ not in my hand, Star--” His tone faltered and he growled as though this newcomer had planned to make a fool of him and jammed the wrong word in his mouth. “Whatever you are, WHOever you claim to be, I expect you to turn over what is rightfully mine.”

The new mech took careful steps toward Megatron, arms held out with palms up and fingers wide and relaxed. Soundwave watched wordlessly from his place beside his leader, ready to step in and plunk this strange mishmash of a mech into a space bridge if he deemed it necessary.

“Certainly my Liege. Unfortunately I’m not entirely sure _how_ to hand them over.”

Megatron made no move toward the other but his gaze held fast to him. There was surely something unique banded to this person’s frame, one on his left arm and another smaller ring on his middle digit of his right hand after the last joint before the palm began.

“I would hate to be responsible for damaging your newest tools for our cause, I would only request I be given the chance to study them to find a possible solution for their removal, as opposed to being disassembled by unskilled servos.” The large mech cast an almost irritated glance over to the vehicons nearest him as they had leveled their weapons at him not long ago.

The scarred, silver mech pondered a moment, his hum deep and intentional. “Our cause. So, you still ally yourself to me?”

“Still?” The more colorful of the two tilted his helm delicately to one side.

“Starscream, Knockout, both of you in there _still_ state your allegiance to me. I want to be certain we have no misunderstanding between us on who exactly you are loyal to.” Megatron explained this with surprising patience, broad arms moving behind himself in an at-ease stance, showing through his body language that he didn’t see this tall, flashy mech as an immediate threat. Call it an act of good will, or what little good the war lord could offer if this new mech’s allegiance might actually benefit him.

“They,” the regal mech began carefully, his thick wings shifting in a small loop, “and I are entirely unaffiliated.” There was silence, and so he continued. “They may be components to this form but my thoughts and my will are entirely my own.”

Interesting. Very Interesting. “How exactly do you still come to align yourself with the Decepticon cause? How can you prove your loyalty to me?” Megatron kept his eyes slightly downcast at the mech, already feeling distrust growing at this stranger’s seemingly bottomless pool of calm energy.

“My memories, their memories, from them I have formed. As such I can recall with almost as much ease what this war is being fought for. I believe in this cause, and as the two that came before me I believe I can aid you in their absence, Lord Megatron.” As his name rolled off this mech’s glossa, it gave the former pit fighter a feint sense of reassurance, honesty in what the other was saying. He still lacked full trust in this jet, or assumed jet. He knew nothing of this unplanned recruit.

“You hold _all_ of their memories… and their _emotions_?” Megatron ventured to try and gather more understanding of the other. The door to the bridge opened, a momentary distraction in the midst of this serious discussion in front of the higher ranks and the drones that just happened to be on bridge duty. A bulky blue frame shuffled in, feeling the tension in the air from the moment he walked in. He had duties to bring around to the vehicons and eradicons alike. He was hoping to catch Knockout before he had to return to the medical bay, hoping he could excuse spending time with him as just walking the same way out.

He didn’t see Knockout. He didn’t even see Starscream. What he saw was a huge mech with fancy colors splashed all over standing in the middle of the room. Like the others, this mech turned to see who had walked in. Black optics with red irises honed in on him and both mechs seemed frozen, staring at each other. Breakdown’s spark pulsed in a small bit of panic. This mech, it had his lover’s eyes, but how? Why? It wasn’t just the appearance in the optics, it was his whole face, his energy.

The tall mech stared at the familiar but new mech across the room. Megatron gave a terse bark of the mech’s name. “BREAKDOWN. Come up here, meet our newest _recruit_.” The heavy would move around the room to join Megatron and Soundwave, facing this mech. “We were just discussing how exactly he functions, being both Starscream and Knockout.”

“Both?” He looked at the mech in disbelief. How was this… how? His processor reeled and his spark twisted. The mech couldn’t tear his optics away from the golden pair belonging to the blue mech. Breakdown. He looked pained, he wanted to fix that. His own spark felt unease at seeing his discomfort.

“I do apologize, my liege, your previous question..?” Again his helm canted in curiosity, having been completely derailed in his thoughts.

“Your memories dictate your opinion, it would seem. I suspect this means you may also carry your predecessor’s emotions. Being to the point, I would sooner trust you in the medical bay with Knockout’s intellect than allow you secondary command at my side with Starscream’s scheming nature.” To admit this so openly made an unexpexted grin spread widely across the taller, colorful mech’s face.

“Oh I absolutely understand,” he almost chuckled. “I think Starscream would appreciate his position being left open for him in his absence, anyway.”

Megatron shifted on his pedes, and surprisingly Soundwave did the same, a small nervous display from the ever watching Third in Command. Breakdown was still a little slackjawed, staring openly at this new mech that was supposed to somehow be made up of the ship’s Second in Command and his own Knockout. Megatron thought over this stranger’s presentation of himself and his words, finally seeming to accept it on some level and relaxed his arms to his sides, continuing their discussion in a calm manner.

“How did you come to be, exactly? With those relics of mine, what were you two doing to cause such destruction and chaos and this… new form. My instinct points to Starscream’s treachery but Knockout’s equal ineptitude is also possibly to blame. I want to hear it from you what they did, how did they cause this?” He pinned the question to him with a wave of his hand and some heavy accusation. He was fully expecting some sleek explanation, some cunning of Starscream’s nature, or perhaps the medic trying to explain it as no big issue and a quick fix that was all in due time.

This earned a momentary frown from the mech, not liking such inflection in the other’s tone. He would get to the point. “In short, my Lord, I have no idea _what_ they did to cause this.” His tone was level, but his patience was starting to wear thin. This blue mech beside their leader, his shock was throwing him off slightly. Megatron still hadn’t accepted the simple explanation of “I don’t know”.

“You speak as if you are not either of them.” Megatron almost growled, not liking that he still couldn’t get a solid beat on this supposed ally, and the fact that Soundwave appeared on edge as well was not reassuring in the least.

“No offense, my _Lord_ ,” the mech said with a tone of something akin to pride, helm held high, “but I am not Starscream OR Knockout. In fact,” his pride grew tangible in his flaring field, intentional and wanting the lord to feel the confidence coming from him, and he smiled, “I’m _better_ than them.”

The arrogance made Megatron’s servos clench at his sides but he would not act on it. This obvious goading, it was definitely Starscream in there and he felt that this being was clearly showing signs of the two that comprised his makeup, and he did not like the idea of his devilish Second in Command having a stronger form.

All of this was still odd for the crew to process. The tall mech never referred to Starscream or Knockout as anything more than other crew members that just weren’t present, and his relationship with them stopped at “components of himself”. The meeting ended shortly enough, Megatron dismissing crew so he could get back to business.

Megatron allowed him access to Knockout’s medical bay, even though the mech knew the codes. It was more formal and professional in a way to officially grant him the privileges on the Nemesis. He made it known that he would be closely monitored and dealt with if there was even a hint that this mech wasn’t doing everything within his power to separate the relics from his form.

Though his memories and knowledge from his two halves were clear as crystal, it was still unknown if he retained either mech’s skills and talents. He was cordial and almost friendly by Decepticon standards, and after the first few eradicons came his way after a nasty run in with the Autobots he proved he had a steady servo on the operating slab and a kind bedside manner, if not a bit overly flirtatious. Repairs were a marvelous and relieving success to all parties involved.

Breakdown caught word of the newcomer’s seemingly gentle nature and he didn’t know yet why it bothered him so much, but it was definitely irking him more than it should have. He was missing Knockout and his duties weren’t helping distract him. He was constantly paying visits to the medical bay to drop off or pick up his troops.

Each visit would result in awkward glances, at least from the blue grounder, and little to no conversing. He would just grab up his soldiers and haul them out once he had the all clear. It didn’t stop there for the lovesick bruiser. He would stumble across hushed conversations between the purple cons, musing about if this was a blessing in disguise. Knockout had treated them well enough but he was always quick to temper and snap his servo into a medical-grade-weapon to get his point across, though he was usually more likely to get upset over the poor troops bleeding out Energon on him.

Then there was the much appreciated absence of the screeching Second in Command. Megatron had no one in his immediate higher command plotting against him or bringing him failure after failure. No Starscream around meant no officer arguing with those beneath him and constantly threatening everyone that he technically had rank over.

Breakdown stumbled upon yet another open discussion in the drone’s main wing where their quarters were. Though this may have been more than just talk when a datapad was being passed between them. Breakdown stepped closer to them, curious. They heard his approach and scrambled to attention, one of the purple mechs trying and failing to subspace the device in time. He didn’t look upset at them, only intrigued.

“What’s all the buzz about?” He placed his servos over his hips but had a small smile on his face. He could be just as friendly as the next guy. They usually included him in their secret happenings anyhow since he always took care of them as equals. This time they seemed unsure, exchanging glances with a flicker of their visors, the main red center shifting toward one another and zipping back to front to focus on Breakdown. The drone with the datapad would step up and offer the device quietly.

“What…? KO… SS?” The top line wasn’t anything he recognized the glyphs for. The top of the datapad’s screen read ‘KO | SS’ and with a line separating the two pairs of letters. Below each pair were tallies, about fifty marks in total. The large grounder looked back at the soldiers with questioning optics and the vehicons shifted uncomfortably.

“Its uh, a survey, sir.”

“Of what, exactly?”

“Who we think the new guy takes after. So far he’s pretty Knockout, but we haven’t seen him on any missions and none of the eradicons’ve seen him fly so...” He trailed off, feeling it was in his best interest to stop talking when he heard the creak and pop of the glass screen under Breakdown’s thumb.

“He isn’t either. He isn’t Starscream and he DEFINITELY isn’t Knockout.” It took all he had to keep his inflection level, but his tone was much lower and more intense than it was a moment ago. He handed the flickering datapad back to the mech and pivoted on his heel, marching down a side hall to get some space. He received a ping from a foreign comm when he was far enough from the soldiers to calm down. He knew who the foreign comm link was, but he still chose not to add it to his common list of contacts. He didn’t even know what to label the contact with if he did add it? He pushed the message aside, not wanting to deal with this right now.

The blue lug busied himself with some of the tasks normally sent to Starscream, only the mundane ones like checking their cache of secondary weapons and energon stock. Normally he would corroborate with Knockout and form inventory lists, working to sort rations and then Knockout would hand down the ration lists to Breakdown to handle the issuing of listed supplies to the troops. His favorite rouge mech really did have it down to a science, even how much to allot for their leader’s unscrupulous consumption and the fly on the wall Soundwave’s surprisingly voracious appetite, well hidden from prying optics as neither attended any sort of real gatherings to refuel.

Nearly done with his tedious and not-quite-mind-numbing-enough task Breakdown physically flinched at another ping to his communications link. Again, it took him a second to turn it down, but this time his HUD flashed with a message and he reflexively opened it.

\- “Is someone cross with me?” -

Breakdown grew tense, jaw clenching. He wouldn’t respond, not to such a teasing question. He had practically read it in Knockout’s voice and it made his tanks clench up and his spark shrink. He pushed it off his internal display and it was replaced.

\- “Want to come to the lab and chat?” -

Again he could swear he heard his lover’s voice ringing in his audials. His denta ground and his armor clamped down in his agitation. The blue mech sat heavily on a container, his bulk almost denting the metal containing smaller cubes.

“Mm, that doesn’t look too safe.” That wasn’t in his HUD. He stood just as quickly as his aft had been planted, reeling around to the source of the voice. The click of stiletto heels approached from behind a taller wall of crated energon cubes. He had to move his optics up quickly, his vision used to being trained at a lower level. The mech was even taller than Starscream, but Knockout’s dashing good looks certainly shone through on the new being’s face. He was easy on the optics but his EM field came off as a bit hectic sometimes, especially toward Breakdown.

“Its been almost a week,” Breakdown said seemingly from nowhere, but the other mech listened with mild interest, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he stepped around the corner to fully face Breakdown.

“Almost a full week of you prancin’ around and not taking this seriously. You haven’t gotten those _things_ off that supposedly _combined_ you and Starscream-”

“Combined _Knockout_ and Starscream,” the larger mech corrected gently. Breakdown continued with a glare.

“You don’t even have a proper name! What’re we supposed to call you?! How long are you going to keep acting like him?!” His large chest heaved when he let out a pent up huff of hot air he had been holding.

Something passed across the enigmatic mech’s optics before they returned to their gentle gaze. He sighed through a gentle smile, lips parting as he took in the sight of the blue mech, stepping closer to the other who refused to move or give ground, which was very admirable and even appreciated in this case.

“Ohh you are a cute one, aren’t you?” Clawed fingers curled under Breakdown’s chin, lifting it slightly and taking him very much by surprise, optics rounded as he was at a loss for words. “He cares for you very much.” The comforting statement kept Breakdown still, it fed into his desire to know that somewhere in this mess of a creature before him, Knockout was okay.

“I...” He reset his vocalizer, clearing it of his shaky uncertainty. He wouldn’t let this mockery of his friend see him emotional. “I _KNOW_ that. I want to know if he’s okay… in there, in… _you_.” He seemed disgusted a the idea of his lover being trapped, and trapped with Starscream for that matter made him almost sick with worry. It aggravated him and made his lip curl just enough to show his gritted denta.

“I don’t think he’s complaining,” he purred down at the copper-toned face. He had been watching Breakdown since his arrival on this ship, feeling compelled to think about him at all hours, perhaps even worrying if he was refueling properly without his medic tending to him. He wanted to bring him comfort, it was his duty, he felt, on many levels.

Knockout was inside him, feeding him his private desires for Breakdown and giving over all of his memories with him. Knockout was captive and was doing what he could from his strange prison. Ultimately neither he, Starscream, nor Knockout knew how to dissolve this form to its original halves. That longing pulled him toward the soldier, a constant nagging at his processor to be nearby. It outweighed the half of him that tried to reason that this attraction in this form was inappropriate. It tried in vain to dissuade him, to drive his focus on his work.

It had worked at first, honing in on the need to practice his medical skills that kept him distracted for the first couple of days, and his ‘off time’ between patients he kept himself on the task of trying to sort out how to remove the relics from his arm and finger.

His worry finally won out over his disapproval. He felt a thrill go over him as he studied Breakdown’s optics. He wanted that passion he knew from the memories of a hidden away part of him. Without any more hesitation, fingers still gently holding that strong chin of his, he leaned down and pressed his pale lips to copper. It was electric, everything felt so exciting and new, bold yet intimate, perfect but taboo, and all somehow familiar and needed.

Large servos pressed into his arms and he was shocked when he was not embraced. Rather he was shoved bodily away, staggering and catching his balance after two backward steps. He was surprised, then confused, perhaps… hurt? He watched the blue grounder shout at him, waving his arms and putting distance between them. He heard nothing of the other’s tangent, resetting his audials to try and focus.

Breakdown was taking a breath and trying to gather his wits while this strange monster stared back at him. Several charging steps and the mech shoved at him a second time in sheer frustration.

“Well?! SAY SOMETHING!!”

His optics cycled, processor calculating. He hadn’t heard whatever the question was and wasn’t sure how to approach this without worsening Breakdown’s mood. He took a deep invent and let it sigh out through his vents in distant hisses.

“I don’t know what I can say to you that won’t upset you.” He admitted with a hint of annoyance. Breakdown was being very hot headed and didn’t want to hear any excuses, but he didn’t know what answers he was looking for. Fists clenched, Breakdown huffed.

“You don’t get to play games with me! You slag-eater,” he growled out. “Give me a straight answer. Are you going to let him go? Is this Starscream’s doing?” The accusation at the end seemed to strike the newly formed mech and his face darkened. He stood a little straighter and held his wings at a sharper angle, pointing upward in a gesture of pride. Something in the air shifted, a prickle of danger seeming to give an uncomfortable static in the space between the two. Breakdown’s anger subdued itself into tense caution.

“Everything I am is your lover and your commander, but together I am neither. This is not a GAME to me. It is merely what I am. Resent me, blame me, do what you will. I have as much control of this situation as you do.” His tone was full of warning but he issued no threats. Even so his demeanor was enough to get Breakdown to step down his attitude a few notches.

It made sense but it was didn’t. He was half Knockout, but he wasn’t… He didn’t want to see his lover stuck as part of this form but it pained him to think his partner’s mind and spark were not his own anymore?

“Just… take this a bit more seriously. Ya can’t go… KISSIN’ me and stuff. I ain’t yours to kiss.” He relaxed and kept his optics on the crates across the room, not wanting to look at the taller mech. There was a calming between them, as if the other now understood more about how Breakdown must have felt.

“I see.” Breakdown looked up at him, meeting calm and somewhat pleased optics. “I’ll have to earn it.”

“WHAT?! NO! That isn’t what I meant!”

“I’ll tell you what, Breakdown,” the mech’s mood shifted to a playful one in spite of their serious talk and being told to be serious. “I’ll let you keep an optic on me. Nothing held back. You can always be certain I won’t let harm come to to your Knockout. Any time you want to see me, or check on if I’m keeping up with trying to get him back to you, you’re more than welcome to pay me a visit.”

Breakdown considered this, looking up at the tall, grinning mech again. “… Yeah… I guess that’ll keep my mind at ease...” He shifted and rolled his shoulders slightly to relax away some of his tension. He noticed the other’s servos flex, digits rubbing together.

“You’re tense,” he hummed, “I’d offer to rub those kinks out for you but you’re not mine, yet.”

YET.

It gave Breakdown a shudder, but not in disgust. It would be a start, the combined mech thought. He smiled with a sweetness that suited that handsome face and continued to speak honestly with the other.

“You know, you’re the only mech I’ve met who is at least half interested in me. I would like to offer you something else.” Uncertainty creased the blue bot’s contrasting orange face. “My name. As you pointed out, I don’t have one. Whatever my name is, I would prefer it to be something _you_ are the first to know.”

That was true, Breakdown thought. No one knew what to call this odd mishmash of Decepticon officers. He shifted his weight to one pede as he thought about such an offer. It was strangely intimate, and way too trusting. Breakdown wasn’t exactly a wordsmith so he worried he’d give in and name him something weird like you would a pet. He worried even more that the mech would smile and accept it, thinking that maybe this stunning mech wasn’t conniving, just incredibly naive and blunt.

“I dunno,” he frowned, looking down as his muddled thoughts started to get the better of him. “I’m sure you can come up with your own, ya don’t gotta trust ME with coming up with one.”

“But I _do_ trust you, Breakdown. Come on,” he purred, pursing his lips to try and keep a devilish grin at bay. “It only makes sense to name something you’ll be keeping.” Startled, Breakdown almost sputtered and tried to look angry, blustering at the other. He danced with his words, danced circles around Breakdown that left him spinning and it was so much like his lover that he reacted as if Knockout himself were playing with him. Not quite Knockout and not quite Starscream, yet he was made of both, somewhere in between but neither. All he could think of was the drones’ poll and their split decision.

“KO… SS...” Breakdown listed the letters from that datapad, Knockout in the lead of the tallies. He was trying, bless his spark. He didn’t want to name him like a master naming a pet, like he owned him, and he’d talked about how much he wouldn’t mind naming a pet in the past but the other was asking for help. He didn’t think anyone else would and it made Breakdown WANT to help. There was a short lived silence before the larger mech spoke.

“Wonderful.” Breakdown’s attention snapped upward to see the other grinning. “K-O-S-S. Koss. I’ll take it.” Breakdown gaped and stammered.

“Oh-! No, that wasn’t supposed to-!” He stopped when the other mech’s smile fell to that of genuine worry, helm tilted and brow ridges coming together in question. He’d liked it so much already. “I… I guess… if you’re _sure_...”

Koss relaxed and smiled softly again. “Alright. Let this be the start of a wonderful new friendship.” Breakdown relaxed and gave a nod, agreeing to those easy enough conditions. He prepared to get back to work to distract himself from these new thoughts on all this craziness. He retrieved his inventory list from his subspace and turned to the crate he had left off on. There were only a couple clicking pedesteps and the newly named Koss was leaning close and almost hanging over Breakdown’s back. Koss felt the other stiffen and grinned when he looked back up at him, face growing warm at the closeness of this new ‘friend’.

“Now, there is the matter of… Rations,” Koss hummed and seemed to be peering only at Breakdown’s datapad over his shoulder. That was fine, but this proximity… Koss was FAR too comfortable being this close to him, and didn’t give any hint that he planned on giving him space. This was going to be a long, long day.


	3. Naming Rivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream for Koss, a waking nightmare for his two "components"
> 
> Koss has been working hard and its time to let off some steam behind closed doors with one of his subordinates.

**Naming Rivals**

 

 

Everything was dark. The sheer still and quiet of it was so unnatural to him, yet soothing. He normally wanted to move or fidget when he was idle for too long, yet he was content to float. It wasn’t even lonely here, wherever here was. It was aimless but purposeful, this directionless rest. His processor felt as if it was ebbing and waning, waves of calm washing over him before he felt dragged back up the invisible shore of consciousness. He was never beached for long, never long enough to really get his bearings. It didn’t feel important, he was free here; Free to float and rest, no attachment to anything to keep him still.

He wasn’t sure who _he_ was anymore. Was he ever anyone at all? He felt like he should smile, thought he already was, didn’t care if he wasn’t.

The ebbing and rocking slowed. It stopped. He was grounded, no longer moving but still afloat. A sharp tug made his optics online. He knew they were open because of the tension in his face. When had his mouth gotten so dry?

He bent and moved, his mind willing himself to face the world around him. It was so dark, but there was depth now, and the planes of darkness swept out infinitely around him. He looked down and a ghost, a shadow of a memory of what he looked like began to form under his gaze.

Red. Yes, he was a lovely shade of red wasn’t he? He was lovely. Dashing, ravishing, gloriously polished and presentable at all times.

Knockout was gorgeous of course he should view himself. Why would he ever forget such a vision of elegance? Now that he felt more _real_ his processor started to catch up with itself. What is this place? He looked from side to side, craning his neck and rotating himself until he’d looked all around.

He didn’t sense any immediate danger but he felt slight unease at how surreal it was. There was a dull flash in the distance, pulling his attention to what rippled and rolled over itself like clouds. It grew more restless and lit again, very much like an electric storm building its charge.

Curious. Audials began to pick up something far away as well, loud but nowhere near him. A growl, a rumble deep in the charcoal heavens that bellowed and gusted closer, intensity rising. The noise washed through the atmosphere, light approaching alongside it over the clouds like lightning guiding its thunder along its journey. The sound was tremendous, lifting into cacophony, so close and encompassing that Knockout was in awe. The light behind the oilslick skies followed an impression being pushed through the choking clouds, something long and triangular. The forward-most tip led it forward, slowing for nothing.

I went by so fast that the doctor would have fallen over himself from the force of whipping his helm back to follow the shape. It banked after it passed him and changed direction, taking its roar with it.

Knockout couldn’t tear his optics away from the spectacle, mouth slightly agape as this enigma careened through the skies. There was a flash behind the mask of clouds and the shape was moving faster, its roar higher in pitch. When the flash came again it was easier to tell it came _from_ the shape behind the clouds. It passed again, rushing overhead, stirring the clouds and making them run in rivers after it.

Another loud crack, a gust of air as the wind was snapped into a frenzy. The pitch and scream of a powerful engine echoed around the skies, piercing the clouds. As the mysterious form grew smaller the shriek of a mighty thruster followed and the glow of its tail was now akin to the twinkle of a fleeting star.

Revelation dawned over Knockout and the red medic spoke aloud, nearly uncertain if he could speak at all with his mouth still so dry.

“Starscream...” The whisper echoed and stretched, carrying upward and summoning the roaring engine to return. The shrill noise grew in volume, the light above the oily sky returning with it. It wasn’t swooping, racing, it wasn’t passing by or approaching and banking. It was coming from high, high above the wall of smoky black hiding it away from the red medic below.

An explosion of silver broke the darkness. The clouds were split around a gray jet, the furious machine diving down and dragging the clouds with it, darkness sticking to its wings like sludge, tendrils gripping and unrelenting. The skies hid this dangerous trap, trying to force the bird back into the other side.

The jet pierced the bottom of the world in the next instant, the reflective surface exploding with motion, rings expanding away from the point of impact, rippling and swallowing the silver jet up into a new murky prison as the viscid tendrils of sky released it from theirs. Knockout tried to move closer, calling the seeker’s name again and feeling panic rise.

Everything about this was wrong and the feeling sank deep into the medic’s tanks. He moved his limbs and made little progress, barely drifting closer to where the Decepticon Air Commander was sinking slowly, no longer glowing and engines silent under the dim, dismal liquid’s surface.

He fought for what felt like ages to get closer and finally reached the seeker’s entry point. Stretching his servo out he touched the surface, and it had no give. It was solid and unyielding to his desperate reach. Knockout found himself on hands and knees, staring down at the still sinking and hardly visible form of the commander’s alt mode.

He stared as long as he could, until his optics were tired and aching. His processor was growing just as muddled and dark as the world around him. He felt incredibly alone, his chest ached and within that his spark felt tight and dim as the loneliness swept over him. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to be alone, and somehow he knew that Starscream was the only one here with him.

* * *

Starscream was tired and angry. So angry. He had been flying for ages, until his entire frame was sore. Everything around him was blurs of bluish black with no end in sight. His initial frustration had shifted to rage before long and the clouds seemed to become more stormy in response, taunting him. His navigation systems were useless and he could hardly tell if he was upside down or right side up. He kept the muddy clouds below him, trying to manually fly a wide grid.

Time seemed to stretch on slowly and his body only grew more sluggish, so he would kick up his thruster and give a boost just to be sure he was going somewhere. Nothing changed, for ages nothing changed. He stopped focusing on anything after a while, letting his angry mind settle into a muted irritation. This whole place was driving him mad; all the same for miles and miles. His grid became lazy zig-zagging and his boosts came far less frequent.

As he seemed to forget what he was even flying for he picked up on something under the dark gloom below. A red blip, just a tiny flash. A landing beacon, perhaps?

No. The single red dot drew the seeker down closer to the clouds, but without a landmark he couldn’t tell if he surpassed it. He didn’t see it blink for several seconds and banked hard to turn around, needing to see the source, he felt a need to make sure someone else was here.

A second later and he spotted it again. His spark pulsed, pounding in its chamber. Relief began to overtake his previous discontent and he gave a boost of energy to his thruster, trying to signal in return. If the little blip was friendly perhaps it would recognize him? Guide him down? Take him away from the lonely skies of just… him.

He danced over the clouds, trying to part them on another pass. They were so thick that they barely seemed impressed by him, moving in lazy swirls as if time here refused to move at the seeker’s pace. Another pass and another, finally he put his backstrut into it and pushed as hard as his frame could handle. His engines roared and cried out under the strain, living up to his namesake, and he passed straight over the blip of red as it glinted once more.

“Starscream...”

He pulled himself upwards, spark pulsing faster and harder. He knew that blasted voice! He wasn’t alone, he wasn’t lost! He felt unbelievably relieved. He spiraled and twirled as he sped upwards into the forever stretching emptiness above the clouds. His engines began to tire, thruster sputtering and stalling. It still burned, still glowed from the heat that had been laid into it for who knows how long.

He was falling, he noted, mind feeling as foggy as the world around him. He pulled his wing flaps to turn around, nose tipping and once more cutting the sky and leading him where he intended to go. He could see it, the little red dot that seemed to pulse every couple of seconds, perhaps even faster and brighter now. He was getting so close. He couldn’t move, Starscream couldn’t do anything but let himself fall.

The clouds wrapped him in a brief and firm embrace, and they swiftly let him through. When his tail parted the clinging clouds his nose was dipping through the ground. It had rushed up to meet him, there was hardly any time to process this. There should be more space below so many clouds, he thought distantly. The ground gave as the clouds had, and it was so cold and thick, so hungry. It swallowed him down into the thick shadows and he felt alone again. He had missed the red blip. He missed that voice… he was close, he knew he had been. Now, however, his fight left him. His body was exhausted and began to shut down, off lining into a sudden recharge. As his processor was slowing and his receptors beginning to idle one by one, he could swear he heard that cherry red doctor call out to him one more time.

* * *

Koss cycled out of recharge with a deep invent, optics flaring online and lenses contracting down to focus. They relaxed when he saw he was still in his room, or rather Starscream’s former room. He had originally intended on staying in the doctor’s habsuite but the berth was too small. Breakdown had balked at the idea of sharing his space so he played it off as a joke and got the passcode to the SIC’s quarters from Knockout’s private files. He tried to recall from his gathered memories but it never came to him. Perhaps it was stored in the other’s subconscious memories after using the code so long. What did humans call it, ‘muscle memory’? What… humans?? Oh, right. Knockout and his movies he’d stumbled across while rooting through files and cabinets to explore the lab when he was familiarizing himself with the lab some time ago.

The large aerial mech rolled over to his front, enjoying the plush meshes beneath him and pressing his face into them. He needed a good polishing after the missions he’d been on lately. Between all-nighters in the medical bay and trying to keep the Decepticon army from falling to literal pieces he had also been tasked with obtaining relics and thwarting Autobots by partnering up with Breakdown.

It was incredibly difficult to keep on the blue bruiser’s good side when he was reminding him of his lover by doing everything together. He heaved a loud, troubled sigh and pulled something closer to himself for comfort: his berth-warmer from the previous night.

The purple eradicon woke with a start, red visor brightening and servos reaching up to touch the arm enveloping his frame. The smaller con came to and his vocalizer crackled with sleepy static.

“Mm good morning to you, cutie,” the voice cooed down at him. There was a click when the smaller mech reset his vocalizer.

“Cutie??” He was in a bit of disbelief that he’d been drawn into Koss’s berth _again_. The second time in as many days. “Did you forget my designation already?” Koss’s smug grin hardly faltered.

“No, no, of course not. I just want to tell you how adorable you look in my arms.” His servos combed up the smaller mech’s backstrut, making him bend and shudder, body pressing closer to his adoring captor. “Hmmn… Just like that, see? You’re adorable, there’s no helping it.”

Nothing seemed to offset this eradicon more than compliments and it only spurred Koss to deliver more of them. He bent over the drone to hold him close and kiss over his audial’s finial, making him shudder and give a soft moan in response. Koss hummed thoughtfully, digits still tickling up and down the other’s back and sides.

“I should try to use ‘Scream’s rank to excuse you from patrols for much more private… ‘drilling’ exercises.” The con’s engine turned over with a rev and Koss’s grin spread wider.

“S-sir, I really should hit the racks, I don’t want to keep anyone waiting...”

“Nonsense. You’ll wash here with me. If anyone asks you are acting as my personal wing washer. We won’t be _entirely_ lying.” The lavender bot was very tempted but he knew Koss was still earning his real authority on the ship. It took him a second to find his response.

“… O… Only _IF…_ You can guess my designation.” He was certain the other didn’t recall. He would just hang around the new officer’s quarters if he wanted more fun down the road, but for now it was a ticket out of this tempting but risky offer. Koss’s optics became half lidded and he leaned over the drone, pinning him beneath him on the berth and casting a shadow over them both, making his optics and the other’s visor seem all the more vividly crimson and bright.

“S… 7...” He began slowly, saying each glyph in a sultry purr. The drone’s optic band brightened considerably, the central optic beam zipping to one side and back to face Koss. Oh that slagging… “3… V...” The large seeker kissed the mech’s audial before whispering the last part of his designation to him. “… 3.” The eradicon hadn’t counted on the other committing his designation to memory, certain he was just his current frag toy.

“B-but you… how? No one would remember me apart from the others, w-why did you.. bother?” He had his helm tilted down, hiding from the affection.

“Well I thought it was _cute_. Knockout studied quite a bit of Earthian culture in his stay here before the Nemesis scooped him and Breakdown up. Movies, art, language. He may only be so accomplished but he did scrawl out a little translated alphabet. Phonetically your name is a mess, but the characters… oh its complicated BUT it looks like a human name. Steve. Isn’t that fascinating?” His optics were gleaming with excitement.

The Visor staring back at him flickered briefly. “… Its… weird… don’t call me that.”

“Steve, darling, don’t be that way. Be PROUD of your nickname! Its edgy and new, different. STEVE.” The eradicon began to pull away, chuckling.

The playfulness in the other was contagious and the drone felt more at ease and open to the idea of the new designation. “Why do you insist on giving me such a silly name?”

“Its only right to name something you plan to keep,” he purred down to him and Steve fidgeted, but nodded. The mood went from light and joking to suddenly intimate and heavy.

“Alright, sir. Its fine with me if you’re the only one who calls me that.” He made it to the edge of the bed only to be pulled back by Koss, the seeker straddling him and dipping his helm down to suckle and nip at energon lines in the drone’s neck cabling. “S-SIR!” He protested only to gasp and gust out a small puff of excess heat through his vents. “You’re in… incorrigible.. ahh...”

Koss’s own motor began to purr, his chassis vibrating pleasantly over the drone and eliciting happy sighs and moans from his little Steve. It was fun to have someone squirming for him, grasping onto his armor and threatening to scrape his finish with trembling servos. The multicolored mech kissed a heated trail down purple plating, slender digits seeking and exploring seldom teased transformation seams.

Steve was a writhing, steaming mess in a matter of seconds. His visor was bleeding color while static crackled across his vocalizer. He arched and pressed his pedes into the berth, bringing his hips up and closer to Koss’s touch, only for the larger of the pair to move away to a new spot, smirking while Steve whined.

“What is it?” He asked silkily, servos palming up the smaller con’s torso, petting him over and only ever getting within a seam’s width of Steve’s panel, then dipped lower to rub down his thighs instead.

“S-sir, plea-ahn~! PLEASE! I can’t ho-o-oh! Can’t hold out forever-!” He vented harder, cooling fans clicking on and making the one above all the more pleased. Koss pressed a thumb over his adorable berth-mate’s panel and drug the point of his finger down the seam.

“Open for me,” he murmured into Steve’s thigh cabling by his hip and the other obeyed. Heat rose up from the willing bot’s array, spike pressurizing right into Koss’s palm. Below the throbbing cord, Steve’s valve clenched and calipers cycled down in anticipation, finding nothing to sate his burning need. “Hmm~ Wonderful. Truly a _fine_ specimen,” he smiled down at the glistening array.

“Hnng-! Koss, sir, please?” His visor darkened, his desire settling deep into his lines and heat making condensation gather on his plating. Hot air drifted up through his seams and his fans kept a steady stream of warm air flowing out of his vents to try and prevent overheating.

Koss, on the other hand, had no tell for his mood. He could have been repulsed and it would never show. Always smiling in that calm, sly way that only revealed that somehow, in some way, he had the upper hand. Delicately the mech encircled his skilled fingers around the spike and began to pleasure him in his own time. He moved his servo slowly, teasingly up the shaft and then back down just as tediously. When he reached the base of the dark gray and lavender spike he tightened his grip. He paused, delighting in Steve’s cries for more. He bucked upwards and quickly found his hips pinned down with the larger mech’s free hand.

When that fist began to drag upwards the mech nearly lost it. The heat and tightness coupled with how deliberately slow and full of friction It was made him arch harder, clawing at the berth covers beneath him. His neck craned his helm back and pressed it into the forgiving plush mesh of the berth. He resorted to begging fairly quickly, pleading to be allowed completion. Two strokes, a third, another, and then nothing. Steve snapped upright, a heated gust of air left him in a huff and he shook.

“KOS-!! SSSSSSS~~!!” He fell back into the berth, panting and rolling his hips as much as Koss would allow. The seeker’s intake was completely over the other con’s spike, glossa pressing as broadly as he could get it to the underside of the heated cord. Koss relished the taste of him and began to suck, wanting to draw out every ounce of excess charge he’d managed to build up in the other.

Steve keened and felt energy zip down his frame in tiny sparks, popping and crackling in its building intensity. “Koss~!” He moaned almost breathless from the other’s ministrations. “Please! Don’t stop-! Don’t you dare stop!” He was rewarded with the larger mech’s amusement. The chuckle reverberated through his spike, into his core and made the heat in his center coiled tighter. He throbbed and began to tense, having started leaking pre-fluid a while ago. The taste had Koss hooked and he only sucked more. With his one hand only holding down the twitching drone’s hips, he made better use of his newly freed hand.

Skilled fingers moved just below the spike, two fingers pressing into the slick folds and making his partner cry out. Oh if he only had a face to better see those emotions, the pleasure on them, perhaps some experimenting down the road… His mind went back to the task at hand and he pumped his fingers in and out of Steve, building a firm and swift pace that rivaled his own spike’s thrusting the night before.

He was still so ready for him, and crying out just as he had many other times. He soaked in the other’s babbling praise and gratitude, the words filling something hungry deep within him. He slowed his helm’s bobbing, eased the sucking pressure, then resumed. Koss wanted the other to be completely off kilter, not able to predict what was coming next. A third finger, a harder pace, then nothing, then only his outer node being licked and sucked. Intake was back on the spike and a thumb was battering the helpless node, three fingers back inside and crooking, scissoring, stretching and seeming to just play around idly while his helm moved and he swallowed over Steve’s spike again and again.

Just as the mech below him was ready to tip over the edge he released him, leaning back on his haunches. Steve’s legs drew up immediately, trying to catch the other and keep him where he needed him.

Koss gripped the eradicon’s thighs and spread him open, licking his lips and then smirking down at his futile fussing and wriggling. “What’s the matter, Steve? You don’t like what I did?” He watched that cute spike twitch at his teasing.

“Hnn-! I-I don’t like t-that you _stopped_!” He vented quickly, cycling air into his systems and his plating fanning open more to help dispel the heat.

“Well how about I give you something else instead?” He lowered the smaller’s legs and climbed over him, dwarfing Steve and making the drone below him tense, not sure what exactly he was supposed to be receiving. “Just relax, you’ve earned this. Being so patient and giving last night. Its my turn to be a little giving.”

Steve never stood a chance to try questioning Koss. Wet heat enveloped his spike, sinking in with delicious ease until he was fully seated inside. Each finely tuned caliper wrung tighter slowly, making it a perfect fit and earning desperate gasps and pants from Steve.

“O-OH--!! Sssiirrr…!” His plating rattled and he shuddered, clawed servos moving up from the covers to clasp onto Koss’s hips. He held on when those powerful hips began to rut over him with such force he thought he’d be pressed straight through the berth.

It was a firm, quick tempo, with Koss rolling his hips without lifting them at all. The friction that built was only eased by the lubricants squelching shamelessly between them. Koss sat back to soak in the view of the mech beneath him, hips still rolling back and forth in a never ending cycle. The pace was intense but steady, and it was almost soothing for Koss. He reached his own servos down to hold onto Steve’s, keeping them planted on his hips. His internal temperature was rising up slowly, making him smile and ease his helm back.

He shuttered his optics, sighing as he lost himself to the rhythm. He gave a yelp of surprise when Steve’s hips clapped against his aft in an upwards thrust, catching Koss as he was rolling back into him. The impact was perfectly timed to penetrate as deeply as one could. Then it happened again and again, Steve growing more bold with his partner.

“Mmf-! W-well, looks like you’ve finally started to enjo-OY yourself?” Koss chuckled and put more pressure into his movements, Steve thrusting harder as well each time to make the impacts more intense.

“I’ve enjoyed every second w-with you, sir,” he huffed and wanted to drive Koss mad the way he had done with him the last couple of nights. This was a huge opportunity to impress the other, being ‘in charge’ like this.

The two workd themselves into an almost frenzied pace, armor clanking together, charge crackling down their frames and both moaning praises to the other. Koss was pleased when Steve took the initiative to grasp Koss’s mostly neglected spike, stroking in time to their thrusts just before everything fell out of sync. Koss’s mouth hung slack as he panted, glossa practically hanging out.

Steve came undone first, cursing through a static laced vocalizer and driving into Koss with such a fury that the larger mech was forced to stay raised up on his knees, not able to come back down between those merciless thrusts. The unrelenting drone arched and stayed buried deep in Koss, body shaking as he found release at last. Transfluid jetted deep into Koss’s valve, seeping out and further staining both of their thighs.

Much to Steve’s surprise, Koss would follow shortly after, trembling and bending forward, large palms pressing onto Steve’s torso to steady himself. He brought one servo back up to close over his partner’s, making him pump his still aching spike with him.

The grinding after was slow and hard, making him huff and add more pressure until he had Steve pinned back down against the berth. Not feeling a loss of control yet, Steve put his other hand on Koss’s waist to help move him, pushing him to go faster and faster. Finally with a sharp gasp and a short cry, Koss came, holding back vocally but letting his mouth hang open as he called out for his berth-mate in a whisper. The charge that rolled through them both was fantastic and neither moved afterward, just venting and letting the heat ebb away from them as their senses came back slowly.

“Primus,” the drone exvented happily.

“Hm,” the large aerial smirked, “Close enough,” he chuckled warmly. “Let’s stick with ‘Koss’, for now.”

The large Decepticon Officer invited the lower ranking bot to clean up with his private shower rack, or rather _Starscream_ ’s commandeered facilities. When Steve emerged the evidence of their deed was far from washed away. His purple legs were scraped up, missing his top coat of paint, looking scuffed and silvery with hints of Koss’s red and black paint rubbed into the scuffs so deeply it couldn’t be washed off.

Koss was laid back in the berth, one leg crossed over the other and panel still open. The backs of his thighs had taken up a lot of the other’s purple finish and his valve lips were puffy, slightly swollen and shining from the copious fluids leaking out onto the berth covers beneath him. He looked up from the datapad he’d taken up in the other’s brief absence. A small, warm smile pulled at the corners of his derma.

“Be a dear and take my sheets to be cleaned?” He asked sweetly, which wasn’t an impossible request but not one the eradicon expected.

“Oh, sure thing.. and, um.. What should I do about..” Koss tilted his helm patiently and the embarrassed mech pointed down, finally, to the lack of paint on his lap. Koss began to chuckle and it only made Steve grow more nervous, faceplate heating.

“What exactly does that have to do with cleaning my linens, Steve?” He still rolled the name off his glossa with a purr, not giving him a solution to his problem.

“B-But, sir, others could find out-- M-Megatron could--!” Koss waved a dismissive hand, cutting him off.

“That’s nice. I expect my berth clean and you ready in it by down-shift tonight, understood?” His tone held a hint of promise to it, and that was enough to get the drone moving. He wouldn’t question why the other was acting cold like this. He had a feeling that the other was only going to use him as a toy, yet he wanted the attention regardless. He wanted to be kept.

After he’d washed himself Koss made his way through his rounds. His duties had slowly expanded into Starscream’s territory in all but title. Eradicons were drilled and kept sharp in their flight skills, evasive maneuvers and tactical training. The fewer dead cons on his operating slab the better, he reasoned. The flight-capable mechs were put through their paces daily while ground based mechs took notice.

* * *

More than one complaint rolled Breakdown’s way, as they half-expected their highter up to have some leeway with the stand in flight commander. The eradicons were given first go on everything: Rations, down time, wash racks, and patrol shifts. They were better fed, had better shifts, were well rested and sparkling clean at all times.

Meanwhile not every vehicon got the best deal out of this. There weren’t enough rations left at the end of the day, the solvent in the wash racks wasn’t warm, they ended up doing most late shift duties, and always were the ones chosen for mine work. Breakdown did his best to keep the Vehicon population on the Nemesis happy. He’d worked hard to help them all feel like equals, that was what being a Decepticon was all about, right?

He couldn’t ground the seekers just to make the vehicons feel better, that wouldn’t make any sense, and the miscalculation in rations just needed to be worked over. The increased survival rate was something they hadn’t counted on at all. He could lighten the load for the soldiers under his watch, at least. Day after day he threw himself into his work beside his troops, encouraging and leading by example. Work hard, play hard.

More often as the days went on they would return proud and laughing in each other’s company, having hit a major pocket of raw energon crystals or making excellent progress in a new mine. If any mech appeared to be unable to make the cut for rations that day then there would be a bustling of cubes tipping turn after turn into an empty one until all were fed enough to properly recharge.

Breakdown stepped in more than once to help one of his brothers in arms get rest instead of continuing from a mining duty into a patrol-shift. It helped him keep his mind occupied anyhow. He didn’t want to be left alone with dark thoughts of Knockout possibly never returning. He didn’t want to pass by Starscream’s former territory, either. He could swear he heard moaning some shifts and balled his fists up, holding back from bashing the door open.

Koss was NOT Knockout. He was NOT Starscream. It was a totally different mech, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his Conjunx was trapped there in Koss’s form, and that… _monster_ was enjoying himself, playing games and using his lover’s title and the Second in Command’s privilege to get what he wanted. He had sworn to be more serious, but he saw no such attitude taken toward getting Knockout and Starscream free.

* * *

Breakdown found himself outside Starscream’s door on just such a day of dour wandering thoughts of his lover. It had been quite a while since he had last seen the commander, too, yet he half-expected the angry seeker to pop out and demand to know who Breakdown thought he was for lurking too close to his door. Was he missing that annoying mech now, as well? Perhaps just the familiarity, the sense of normalcy that came with the wily jet being around.

Instead, he KNEW this room was occupied by an imposter, someone that was not normal in any sense of the word. He reached up to knock but thought better of it. What good would it do to get himself riled up over a strange mech that would give him false hope with his syrupy sweet promises to help bring his love back and the bothersome seeker with him.

Turning quickly away Breakdown nearly ran into an eradicon. He was holding a large armful of clean linens and his visor brightened in a bit of panic.

“Sir! I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful,” he stated quickly and stepped to the wall to give Breakdown room to pass by.

“Oh, nono,” he waved his massive servos in front of himself, “Its my fault, I’m rushing around and not lookin’ where I’m goin’,” he explained. He saw the linens and frowned a little. These were soldiers, not slaves. Even if this mech _was_ one of the more pampered eradicons, he still felt they shouldn’t be forced to do side tasks like this. They’d always had to get their linens done at the same time to save energy and chaos in mechs bringing them down at random to the lower levels of the ship.

“You want me to give these to him? I won’t take any lip from him,” he smiled and reached down to unload the pile from the mech, fully intending on dumping them in the dirtiest corner of the room if the mech wasn’t inside.

“NO!” The shout surprised even the drone. It took Breakdown only a moment to analyze who the drone was.

“S73V3, are you okay? If he’s been getting pushy with you, I can talk to him for ya,” he offered his reassurance, knowing just how severely the soldiers were trained into fearing repercussions for speaking out of turn.

“I’m sorry, Breakdown, sir, I don’t mean to raise my voice, I just-uh-I was asked to bring these for Koss.” He was grateful for the large pile of fresh laundry hiding much of his front from his commanding officer, as he still hadn’t the time to get his paint touched up. Seeing the blue higher up still looking concerned he felt compelled to come up with _something_ to put him at ease. “I-It makes me feel closer to… being _important_...”

Breakdown hummed, still looking unsure about letting him complete the task without backup.

“I can stick around,” he smiled down at him. “I’ll even help you tuck the corners so he’s not breathing down your back.” The drone glanced to the door and then to Breakdown. In moments like these he was glad he had a face mask so he wouldn’t give away his emotions easily, restricting his field to himself as well.

“Sure… Thanks...” He conceded, fairly sure Breakdown would not just let him be, so he may as well let the big guy put his processor at ease by helping? The drone, who’d been given bio signature access, of all things, hit the scanner and the door opened for them. Koss wasn’t back yet and Breakdown seemed to be the relieved one here. He walked to the berth and stood opposite the smaller bot, opening his servos to him.

“Okay S7, just toss it on the berth, we’ll work corner to corner.” The other agreed and did so, grabbing one side and fanning it out. Breakdown reached up and caught the fluttering lightweight mesh and found the edge, moving to one end and pulled, looking up to make sure the other had a good hold on his side. From under the still slowly sinking fabric, across the berth, he could see the soldier’s unobscured lower half and tensed. He felt like someone took his own hammer and bashed it through his chest. S73V3 continued to tuck in the corner, sliding the fabric along the edge of the berth sides and looking up.

“You got the other… corner?….” He stilled, seeing where the other’s optics were locked after the cover had finished settling down to the berth. Golden glass darkened to contemplative amber, lips drawn tight and copper features stern. He was thinking, trying to make sense of what he saw. S73V3 felt trapped, those optics pinning him where he stood.

“So.” Breakdown began, levity gone from his voice as he sraightened and released the sheet, standing at his full height, chest out and shoulders squared. His EM field was like heat off a slag pit; it was hot enough without getting close to give one the immediate sense of danger it represented. “You feel closer to being important, yet?”

S73V3 stepped back, wanting to get some distance between the bruiser and himself. The berth that had been a huge playground for the past few nights now seemed incredibly small.

“Sir, I-I’m just following orders,” he tried calmly.

“You saying he forced you?” Breakdown took a step to the side to match the other’s retreat, ready to follow him around the berth.

“N-NO! H-He wanted me to join him, that’s all, w-who am I to say no?” He backed up another step and Breakdown was now in front of the foot of the room’s centerpiece.

“Then you WANTED it?” The joints in his fingers creaked as he unfurled and re-clenched them into eager fists.

“Breakdown, please! B-Be reasonable! Y-You’ve seen how demanding he gets?? I just, I-I didn’t want to make waves, a-and besides, you’re not with him right? He isn’t the same as Knockout, _right_??” He held his claws up to try and placate the other, now backed into the far wall of the room with nowhere to run. To his relief Breakdown seemed to pause and think.

Amber optics began to lighten into their usual gold. He looked down first, then away. His tightly drawn derma tugged downward into a frown. Koss… He wasn’t Knockout, this had been established from the beginning, yet he still felt like someone had tried to steal his cherished medic right from under him again. It was wrong. Everything about this whole situation was wrong and unfair. Guilt came over him and he tried to pull his EM field back before the other could catch it.

“Ah… look, S7… You’re right.”

“I am??” The drone was still nervous but now with a splash of confusion.

“He, that… _Koss_ , he isn’t my Knockout. So, y’know… have.. have fun, I guess. Just don’t let him get you into any trouble.” He offered a small smile but it wasn’t genuine, it felt somber and fake.

“Sir, you gonna be alright with that?” Breakdown nodded and moved to his previous place on the other end of the berth and his abandoned corner of bedding, waiting for the soldier to return to the opposite end. Together they finished dressing up the berth in silence, Breakdown trying in his own subtle way to make sure the other wasn’t afraid of him after his threatening posturing.

“Sorry again. If anything happens, like,” he rubbed the back of his helm, “like you feel something is off, or… he wants ya to do something that isn’t right, you can tell me. I don’t want to see you biting off more than you can chew. I mean, uh,” he glanced at the other’s faceplate, not sure how to bounce back.

“Sure thing, sir. Thanks for worrying about me.” It was an odd moment between them, the drone imagined this was what it must feel like when a creator was letting its creation explore dating for the first time?

“I worry about all you guys,” finally a genuine smile, his field able to start relaxing away from his form. “is there anything else I can help you with, S7? Or anything else shocking you need to get out of the way?” He tried to make light of the tension earlier to make it easier to put things behind them and move on.

“Well, just one thing, I suppose? Just between us, sir, I have a nickname I’m growing attached to.” Breakdown grinned more, seeing the other open up and fidget. He nodded, ready for the other to elaborate. “Steve.”

“Steve?” He tried not to sound incredulous. That sounded very… organic and weird. “How’d you come up with a _unique_ one like that?”

“Ah, well see, _I_ didn’t. Koss did. He kinda re-named me, but called it a nickname based on my own. Something about human language and lettering.” His slight joy was present in his normally tightly held field. He was pleased with the name Koss had given him. Breakdown looked a bit distant. He was quiet as he took all the new information in.

_It only makes sense to name something you’ll be keeping._

“You don’t mind keeping it between us though, right?” The eradicon asked, hopeful it would remain private until he was more comfortable with it.

The blue bruiser nodded, EM field drawing back to himself and away from the other’s joyous one.

“Sure thing, Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOH BOY Breakdown might have a break down if this keeps up. How will the Best Big Boy on the Nemesis fare with Koss and his shenanigans ON THE NEXT EPISODE OF DRAGON BA----aaah anyway um... YEAH next chapter is more heavy, Koss needs to get his act together and Megatron will definitely see to it he learns where exactly he stands in the Decepticon ranks.


	4. Naming Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron shows his mug Aw jeez! Final chapter already!

**Naming Lovers**

 

 

Koss held his gaze level with Megatron’s. It was a steady and calm one; unwavering in the constant pressured waves of hostile energy pulsing toward him from the silver mech across the bridge from him. How long did the warlord think he could keep this up? Those games he’d taken to lately were not short nor amusing. He tried to toy with soldiers, his officers, and now especially Koss. Was he going stir crazy from having two less higher commanding soldiers to blame for shortcomings in their war? Or was it the LACK of shortcomings that had him so riled? Was it something else entirely?

“Do not,” the battle-weathered mech began slowly, “take me for a fool.”

“I would never dream of it, my lord. I am trying to be as direct as I am able.”

“You expect me to believe that in all this time, you still have not come any closer to understanding how the relics on you work NOR how to remove them?” His clawed digits curled into the arms of his throne-like chair, threatening to shave ribbons of the metal from its already marred surface.

“That is correct. I am practically no further along in my research than when I began. I only have piles of datapads detailing my experiments and lack of results.”

“I am not here to proofread your trials and errors!” He slammed a fist down in a show of anger, the heavy bang of his clenched hand hitting the throne echoing into the abnormally empty room. Koss’s slow, intentional blink in response only further spurred the war lord’s already short fuse to burn faster. Koss had, on the surface, appeared to be an exemplary soldier. He wasn’t a ‘yes man’ but he wasn’t exactly cordial around his superior, and that was putting it lightly. It was always non verbal gestures; small eye rolls or barely audible sighs during war room meetings if he disagreed with a plan. Beyond that his EM field was almost always erratic and bordering on rebellious, at least in how Megatron perceived it. The silver mech leaned forward slowly, servos moving to rest on his thighs, a faux show of casual posture.

“Tell me, _Koss_ ,” he spat the name as if it were meant to insult, “Which one is in control right now?” His voice was a grated mockery of a whisper in the room devoid of mechs besides the pair speaking. The question struck Koss visibly in how the fusion held his chin up higher, standing a little straighter and wings twitching upward a fraction in a display of superiority to try and mask his annoyance. “Starscream it is,” his optics flashed knowingly, perhaps thrilled he’d finally pegged his haughty subordinate.

“Sir,” Koss gave a curt and less than refined response, “I do not wish to insult your intelligence by going over this _again_.”

“So insult me,” Megatron goaded, sharpened denta filling his devious grin he bared at the other. The battle worn faceplate reflecting such mocking glee was a troubling sight indeed. Koss took a slow invent, optics still unwavering from Megatron’s cutting focus.

“I am not your Second in Command, Starscream, nor am I your Chief Medical Officer, Knockout. I am an entirely different mech,” he sounded a touch perturbed but rolled his shoulders to ease the tension out of them. “… My liege.” He added the formality as smoothly as he could, though still only an afterthought. In his inward directed distraction in soothing his own wounded pride at being thought of as just some puppet for his two components he had let his guard down entirely. He hadn’t reacted in time if at all to the silver mech straightening from his seat and stepping forward the few paces needed to invade Koss’s space. A heavy, clawed hand raised and secured itself on Koss’s shoulder, the weight of it bringing his body to a slight slant under the pressure and his body tense to balance and compensate.

“As amusing as you think you are, this joke has run dry.” Before Koss could speak out in his defense he had been yanked forward, Megatron side stepping to finish swinging the other to the floor where the war lord had just stood. The large aerial pushed himself up to his knees and servos, trying to recover and only found himself back on his front, face down in the floor with a massive pede stomped into his back. Koss was sprawled out indignantly and squirmed, trying to claw his way back upright against the other’s pin.

“Lord Megatron! What is the mMHERK-!” The pede had raised and crashed back down, stamping him harshly against the ground. When the pede raised once more he rolled to evade the next blow, stopping before he risked rolling against his flared out wings. The former gladiator towered over him, claws curled inward into eager fists that clenched and unclenched as the angry mech contemplated how he would like to inflict damage next. His weight shifted fluidly from side to side even as his pedes remained, hidden pistons and hydraulics quietly hissing into the quiet room.

Megatron was anticipating a counter attack, for anything resembling an attempt to strike back or flee. Koss’s optics whirled and focused, forcing himself down from his near-panic. He cycled a few calming invents and relaxed his flared wings back and down, a sign of submission and he raised a hand, palm up, moving slowly to show the agitated leader he was not fighting back. When he spoke, he kept his voice steady and soft.

“I am not a pit fighter, but I’m not a coward… I’m not going to beg you for mercy, my lord. I’ve done nothing to warrant such an attack.” He waited, making no move to stand.

“HA!” The laugh was an abrupt huff, disbelief still coursing over Megatron’s hardly readable field. It pulsed out in heavy waves like an ozone of rage and fury, weighing down any chances to reason through it. “That silver glossa of yours, Starscream, I’ve almost missed it. This new body has _emboldened_ you, but I understand.” The mock sympathy in his tone made Koss shudder inwardly. The tyrant over him had convinced himself Koss was simply a shell in which the treacherous Second in Command had taken residence.

“Sir...” He had to try changing tactics, reason wasn’t working. Logic would not pierce the blind anger and presumption the older mech had built up. “I’m… I’m sorry… I can see how my lack of results and calm demeanor could be seen as lack of effort. That would seem similar to Starscream, wouldn’t it?” He sounded agreeable, on Megatron’s side. The heavy EM field twisted back with a snaking suspicion.

The war lord shifted, optics narrowing slightly and arms folding across his broad chest as he sneered downward at the felled flyer. “Get to the point. What are you hoping to gain from your procrastination?”

A long pause. Koss had to think. He… was starting to consider more of the leader’s perspective. His actions, his inactions. He excelled in all his tasks _except_ the first he had been assigned. Did he want to stay like this? Or rather… was he fearful of losing this unique existence?

“I suppose I’d...” He paused and Megatron growled lowly, unfolding his arms and seeming to ready his stance if he needed to kick the other into stating his case. “I’ve been trying to impress you.”

“You what?” He balked flatly at the mech on the floor. “Impress me? What sort of fool do you take me for?”

“I would prefer to continue existing as a valuable member of your army than to return to your ranks as an under appreciated joke of a medic and a sniveling scheming Second in Command. Perhaps… that’s exactly what I’ve been doing...” The last bit, he began to believe what he was saying. “Separate, two halves are weaker, inefficient, but combined I am a superior being. All of their benefits, none of their cons, if you’ll pardon the pun.” He regretted the last bit, not intending to make light of this as he was growing weary of laying on his side on the floor and wanted to be allowed up.

The gray menace stood back, pondering over the other’s words, arms sliding behind himself. He turned his back, giving Koss reason to believe he could finally stand at the display of no longer being considered a threat by Megatron. He hoped this was how he meant his posture, at least.

“You feel you are a superior being due to the relics.” He pondered aloud for the other to hear his thoughts.

“Yes, perhaps more of a… a super soldier?” Koss didn’t check for injuries, he would just stand steady and await the other’s judgment. In the quiet of the hulking silver mech’s pondering, Koss became acutely aware of the other mech’s on deck. When had they arrived? Had they just filed in for their shift? Had they been trickling in the entire time? Vehicons and Eradicons were both watching from their monitoring stations. This was new, this cold emptiness and heavy numbness in his limbs, Koss thought. It was bitter, it made his tanks roll, his pump pushing energon too hard and loud past the fine inner workings behind his audials. No, this wasn’t new. It was very familiar to at least one of his halves.

Humiliation.

Koss pushed the realization to the back of his processing trees, needing to deal with the scrutinizing of his leader before licking the wounds in his fledgling pride. He attempted to focus on Megatron, the mech who had grown silent and still thinking over Koss’s previous words.

“In these convoluted memories you’ve acquired,” white irises regarded the quiet aerial, “do you recall what a ‘Combiner’ is?” Megatron still hadn’t fully faced the other mech, instead just barely keeping his optics on him with his helm turned to glance over his broad, pointed shoulders.

“Combiners… Yes,” Koss nodded after seeking out such knowledge in himself. “Invaluable at the start of the war.”

“Correct,” Megatron spoke a growling promise, “They were vital for advancement in the war in the beginning. Now its hard to find a trace of them, or at the least a ‘complete set’.” He turned fully to Koss, stepping quickly toward him and delighting in the sharp invent the other made. There it was. He’d been looking forward to getting this one to submit and it had taken hardly any time at all. Perhaps there was use for this one, yet.

“Combiners shared a single form, and when done correctly were of one mind and with one purpose: Destroy their enemy. You, Koss,” he seethed the name, “have admitted to having a traitor and an ingrate as your sole composites. Tell me, KOSS,” his voice rose into a roar as he leaned into the new soldier, making him tip back under the force of his presence, “What is it about you that is supposed to be SUPERIOR?!”

Koss hadn’t felt this kind of intensity yet. He recognized it, knew it the klik he felt the negative pulse of energy strike at his very spark. This was a common tactic, leading Starscream into a corner and letting the seeker trap himself. How? How was he suddenly in the wrong? Arrogance. Was that what led him here? Koss had thought he was genuinely trying to prove himself. Were the Eradicons not in the best shape since their very activation? Was the mortality rate of the Nemesis crew not the lowest it had been in a millennia? All this doubt bombarded him, overwhelmed and distracted him. It was unwanted, it was forced and violating to his processor and so unfair--

He wasn’t paying attention. Megatron looked so smug, so proud and as if this all made him grow bigger and stronger, smirking down at Koss as the taller mech had wilted under his ferocity, hunching into a position adapted by a certain commonly cowering Second in Command.

“Correct again,” the war lord cooed to him.

“I… I didn’t say anything my Lord?”

“That is because ‘nothing’ was the answer.”

Nothing made Koss superior in Megatron’s sight.

Nothing was what the fusion began to believe he was worth.

He was imperfect, his two halves did not make a whole.

What was he? What was the point of Koss existing with no usefulness and no purpose?

He remained quiet and cowed long after the Decepticon leader walked away and dismissed him.

* * *

Breakdown was feeling more and more excluded from everybody around him. He worried things between himself and Steve weren’t truly settled, worried that word got around to the other vehicons and eradicons and they thought he was becoming another untrustworthy officer.

The reality was simply that Breakdown had been in such a poor mood for so long that he’d let it show in his EM field and the troops just kept at bay for everyone’s sake. They would quietly clean a space for him when he came to get his rations and would fall into a hush when the heavy shuffled into the wing of the ship that housed their barracks.

Alone and contemplative, Breakdown nursed at energon cube, licking his lips absently and heaving a sigh here and there.

“This seat taken?” The copper-faced mech glanced up to see an eradicon with a familiar scuff on his plating, though he’d been repainted it still wasn’t perfectly covered up.

“Steve, right?” The con’s visor brightened in his version of a smile but he was also a little embarrassed.

“Right,” he took a seat across from the large blue officer. “You uh… you doing okay?” He poked around the top of his own cube with his uncertain clawed servos.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Breakdown smiled but ut was all on reflex. The way the soldier across from him stared with his unwavering visor was no different than any other drone, but it felt almost accusing. His false smile faltered and fell slowly after a few seconds of silence between them. His broad shoulders slumped and he remained quiet, now feeling more awkward about it all.

“Look, me and some of the guys see how you’ve.. y’know… _been lonely_ since the medic has been gone,” he began carefully, pausing to watch for how the officer would tense or the way certain plates clicked tighter together. “I know you’ve worked with Koss but have you tried really _talking_ to him? He is.. kind of a medic in his own way. Seems smart enough.”

“Eh, I mean, uh...” Breakdown shifted his weight from side to side in his seat, optics down at his digits fiddling together in an effort to find a reason to dodge the suggestion.

“What could it hurt?” The eradicon gave a small shrug, trying to help give the impression that it was a simple, sensible idea. “If you’re worried about, well, _him_ and _I_ , then don’t be. I’m just somebody for him to fool around with.”

The way he spoke of it with such a nonchalant tone made Breakdown’s spark ache. This drone, who had probably never had much individual attention in all his existence, was able to come to terms with the fact he was most likely just a plaything. Even if he was lying, that was no better. If Steve had any attachment to Koss then that meant once he was divided to his two original forms that this lowly eradicon may never see the unique mech again. Breakdown hummed and folded his hands behind his energon cube, looking to Steve with a sadness in his golden-glassed optics.

“You’re a good mech, Steve.” The eradicon raised his helm and straightened his posture in surprise. He glanced to the side to be sure there was no other ‘Steve’ nearby he’d been mistaken for and looked back to his superior.

“Sir…??”

“You are. You’ve got a good helm on your shoulders. No other soldier has taken a moment aside to check on me. You say they were worried but you’re the only mech to come talk to me.”

“Well you look pretty scary when you’re not in a good mood,” he defended his brothers. Breakdown smiled genuinely this time.

“You got a point, there,” he laughed quietly. “I’ll check on him. Make sure he’s not slacking off.” Steve nodded, figuring it was the other’s way of giving himself a reason to go.

Breakdown didn't have much free time until the later evening. When he arrived at the medical bay he found the door secured and code-locked. He hummed and leaned up to listen, curious if the stand-in medical officer had stepped out for a bit. The metallic clattering behind the door was certainly unexpected. It sounded like a medical tray, as he’d bumped into quite a few in his days assisting Knockout over the years. The second noise, however, was louder and angrier. The hollow metal of a tray and other small items clattered across the room and impacted the door very clearly.

He frowned and stood back when he heard something akin to an anguished cry. His spark began to pulse harshly and without further thought he began to bang on the door, the loud rumbling sound of his fists denting the thick protective metal echoing through the wide halls of the wing.

“Hey what’s goin’ on in there?!” He shouted, more than loud enough for the rooms occupant to hear him. There was only more clattering sounds, tools possibly being placed none-too gently onto trays, some clinking as others fell to the floor.

“Nothing~!” The sing-song reply sounded more panicked than playful. Taking a step back the bruiser transformed his right servo into his hammer. He’d rather be responsible for unnecessary damage to the door than allow Koss to continue tearing up Knockout’s medical bay. It took three mighty swings to buckle the door enough to have a gap to reach through. He transformed his hammer back to its root mode and gripped each half of the dual-sliding doors and braced himself. Pushing with his always astounding brute strength and a guttural growl he shoved the warped doors apart.

He had expected a mess from hearing equipment falling, but what he hadn’t been prepared for was all of the spilt energon on the floor and operating slab. Koss had no victim, either. His arm was laid on the flat surface, fingers trembling and stained blue by his life-blood, his other hand still gripping onto it and the wound inflicted there as if afraid his own arm would run from the damage he was causing it while still attached.

“W-what’re you doing??” The heavy lumbered over quickly, only careful of the larger splotches of energon on the floor. Koss pulled back from him, optics narrowed in irritation.

“How very _BRUTISH_ of you, barging in here uninvited! I’m in the middle of--!”

“Middle of what?! Hackin’ off your arm like some glitched out animal?!” Breakdown put his servo on the other’s trembling one. The flier had deep gouges and scrapes around the band on his upper arm, the relic itself was fine aside from the glowing liquid trailing along the edge of it.

Breakdown pulled Koss to his pedes and over to an emergency shower for flushing chemicals and irritants in case of lab accidents. The taller mech stammered and sputtered, trying to form words that would emphasize just how taken aback he was. He resisted until he was forcibly stood in the stall, his weight triggering the shower to activate. It poured over him entirely in a warm and steady spray.

“Breakdown, this is _most_ unappreciated. I was in the middle of working on removing these infernal antiques! Now you’ve gone and broken down my door, dragged me from my task, gotten me absolutely soaked and now I’m behind schedule and--!”

He stopped when a broad hand grabbed his wrist, pulling his arm forward to examine it. The blue bruiser had a frown set deep in that copper faceplate as his optics glowed and then dimmed behind his golden lenses.

“First off, its _his_ door. Knockout’s. NOT yours. Second, I may not have a ton of background in this, but I’m pretty slaggin’ sure cutting up your arm and bleeding everywhere isn’t a proper test or-or experiment or trial or WHATEVER you’re gonna call this!” He huffed and let his arm go. “You better not be causing damage to Knockout OR Starscream.”

He tried to sound warning and imposing but only in tone. Outwardly he was stepping away to look for something in the many cabinets within the bay. Koss watched quietly, stepping out of the shower to continue watching the other mech shuffle around the room in his search. Breakdown grabbed up a couple of jars and turned to head over to Koss. The moment their optics met the shorter mech seemed to almost puff out his cheeks in annoyance.

“GET BACK IN THAT SHOWER! You’re still dripping your insides outside!” The larger of the pair was amused, smirking and lifting his optic ridges in mock surprise.

“Yes sir,” he replied airily, not trying to hide the smirk on his lips. How could he? That pout was adorable on that face.

“Don’t smile,” Breakdown chided. “Nothing about this is funny.” He returned to Koss to be sure the other fully cleaned his wounds. He subspaced the jars and stepped very close. There was a comforting familiarity to this, but he felt Breakdown should be more imposing, but this was nice too. He allowed the bulky mech to inspect his arms, turning them over and running warm solvent over them, brushing his blunt digits over tender wounds.

When the bleeding seemed to slow enough Breakdown would lead him out of the stall, letting it automatically shut off behind Koss. He stepped backward slowly, keeping Koss’s servos in his and leading him to the secondary and far cleaner medical berth. He let go of Koss’s servos only to place those broad palms on either side of the tall mech’s waist and lifted him easily, gently sitting him on the thick slab. Koss was without words, being more enamored by the mech as each second passed under his care.

“You’ve got some skill in this department after all?” He noted with amusement as the other began to rub a nanite solution into the torn armor plating. Ah, that’s what those jars were.

“I learned from the best.” The answer was short and honest, and Koss felt a pull to stay still for him, something inside nagging him to behave. He sat proudly, taller on the medical slab. He moved his arms every which way the impromptu nurse needed as they were patched up. When he was done Breakdown wiped his servos on a mesh towel, digits feeling a little tingly from the nanites he’d handled without any protection. They wouldn’t hurt but it still felt odd.

“Should be as good as new before long. Now... What in the PIT were you thinking?!” He bore down at the other and Koss stuck his lower lip out right away.

“Now just what sort of bedside manner is _that_?” He didn’t want to raise the other’s ire but seeing the heavy finally show some sort of emotion over his well being was almost cause for celebration! He reached out and snagged Breakdown’s servos in his own, lacing their digits together and pulling the big blue bot closer, smiling confidently even as Breakdown’s frown grew more stern. Koss tutted gently and leaned down to get his face level with the other’s and his smile became more devilish.

“Don’t be mad at me, please?” He tilted his helm, trying to act innocent and sweet for the other.

“Too bad. I’m gonna be mad until you tell me what was going through that processor that made you think fragging up your finish was helping anything?” He didn’t pull his hands away, knowing if he did he might pull too hard and yank the other right off the berth. Koss’s smile faded into a reserved calm, tucking his emotions aside and giving a forfeiting sigh.

“I was being admittedly a bit… rash.” He watched Breakdown and noted his silence. He didn’t break optic contact, waiting for him to continue. “I’ve had some new pressures put on me by our liege.” He gave a thoughtful hum and looked away, feeling guilty the longer he looked back into that steady golden glow. “I know you’re worried about him. He’s worried about you, too.” The grip on his servos tightened, drawing his attention back.

“Koss…” He took a deep cycle and exvent. “Yeah, I’m worried, been worried for days. This dramatic junk? It isn’t gonna fly with me. Any self pitying ‘woe is me’ nonsense, Knockout’s already put me through everything. I know he’s half of you so, I guess you should already know that. Now the… other half of you, I’m not entirely sure about. Starscream is pretty rough around the edges and theatrical, but him and my doc are smart. They know not to go hurting themselves, so.. You ought to be smart enough not to act like that, too.” He stared at Koss, silence stretching between them until Breakdown’s copper face grew darker, feeling embarrassed and causing him to glance away and all around the room.

“I-I’m not sure where I was goin’ with that except, I guess, be careful. I… I care about you too, even if you’re not exactly _my_ Knockout. He’s a part of you and that’s gotta count for something.” When he carefully turned to face Koss again he froze. The other was giving him such a soft, familiar smile. It immediately took him back to the last time he’d woken up with that crimson speedster in his arms after a long and peaceful recharge.

“You’re so sweet.” Koss reached a servo out, cupping the slightly short mech’s cheek. “Knockout is very lucky to have you. If I recall, Starscream is rather jealous of you two.” Breakdown wasn’t sure if he should be hearing this. “The two of them… me… we all think you’re an under-appreciated mech. You deserve peace of mind at the very least.” The bruiser held still, unblinking as Koss closed the gap between them. He tilted Breakdown’s helm and angled him to allow their derma to meet in a sweet, chaste kiss. The touch lingered and the copper faced mech’s optics were wide.

His spark pounded and swelled. He could _feel_ something, a pull from within the tall mech. Even mingled within the flier’s carefully composed field he could pick up on the familiarity. It was so close to him, so normal to feel this yet he’d missed it so much. Knockout’s spark, his EM field was full and welcoming as always, yet it was more encompassing now. There was more, and it was so novel and wonderful. That other component to it he could only assume was Starscream. Together they wove a new feeling over Breakdown. There was trepidation, reservation beside Knockout’s field. Uncertainty, but desperate longing plucking at the bruiser’s raw and needy field. All of this energy was longing and Breakdown was so ready to give and receive.

Loneliness.

Koss.

Koss was here, the coming together of two sparks, making an entirely new being. He was all the good, all the bad, everything that made Knockout and Starscream, and yet was an entirely new being left here with all of their feelings, their wants, and their loneliness. Had Starscream ever had anyone? Had he been yearning for someone to come along and give him what he had given Knockout? And Knockout, being pushed aside in this new form by his own lover. It was almost breaking the heavy’s spark to think of how long he’d shunned them when he was perhaps the one mech they’d both, that Koss had needed so much to understand them.

He reacted on impulse, feeling Knockout with the other and not able to withhold himself from them any longer. The unique swirl of energy that made up Koss’s field was full of understanding and acceptance, allowing big blue arms to wrap around him as best they could. Helms tilted and glossa sought one another, pressing with an urgency unrealized until now. In their flurry of kissing and holding, something came to Breakdown and the mech parted his derma from the taller mech to look up at him.

“Koss… This...” He placed his servo gently over the fusion’s chest. “Have you felt this lonely this whole time?” The calm in Koss’s optics became clouded with sorrow and he nodded carefully.

“It seems to get better when I’m near you.” Breakdown pulled Koss back in for another embrace, kissing him with solid intent now. He needed the other to feel his affection, he wanted to rid the other of that terrible loneliness that had plagued them both. He needed Knockout to know he was here, needed Koss to know he understood now, and needed Starscream to join them and feel happiness that was not his keep from them. It took some maneuvering but soon Breakdown was on the medical berth, Koss sitting across his lap to reach around the side of Breakdown’s larger than average chassis.

Their affection was borderline desperate, moving as if they couldn’t afford to miss another second not giving all of their attention to the other. Koss would be the one to lean back, taking a calm steady vent.

“Do you have any patrols to be on?” It took Breakdown a second to check his HUD, then send a ping out to one of the vehicons that’d had a longer rest than the others that day.

“Not anymore,” he smirked up at him, the fusion grinned back.

“Good. You’ll be staying here tonight,” the sleek aerial grinned and gave those copper lips a light nip before gracing them with a soothing kiss. Breakdown sighed happily into the affection and gave his consent, smoothing his broad servos up Koss’s sides. He didn’t mind when the taller one gently pushed him onto his back, his heavy duty spare tire still holding him up at an angle. It only made it all the easier for Koss to worship him, moving to lay on the heavy’s thick, broad chest.

Pointed fingertips explored the strangely familiar planes of the broad mech’s torso, reacquainting themselves with old barely noticeable dents, small dips and scrapes of those silver hips, sliding further into transformation seams and smiling when he earned pleased gasps and sighs of pleasure from him. Breakdown always envied Knockout’s skilled servos, his own blunt digits smoothing themselves over Koss’s sides, traveling around to massage the intricate back paneling. It was very new, but still felt so very right to be holding the fusion close. The constant encouragement from Koss’s EM field pushed him to explore further. He would feel Knockout’s optics on him and he felt safe, he was there with them making sure he was okay. Breakdown was sure of it.

When those skilled, lethal looking servos ghosted past his panel he wasn’t surprised, as Knockout loved dragging out the inevitable and making it one long burning tease. When his thighs were touched next he was a little surprise, having expected more teasing to get him begging to release his spike for him but he reminded himself this… this wasn’t his Knockout. This erotic creature pawing at him was almost a haunting re-imagining of his lover, though his long time companion still felt very present and reassuring. Claws lightly prickled over his armor, shocking strength behind those hands slowly kneaded at his thighs and he groaned.

Ah, he knew where this was leading. The bruiser eagerly parted his legs for the other, expecting Koss’s lovely helm to dip down as his past lover had done many times before. Instead, much to his now building confusion, the red black and silver mech settled his torso there, raising Breakdown’s legs up until they bent around his hips and were held up by his own kneeling on the medical slab.

“H-Hey, uh, this isn’t normally how this goes,” he gave a crooked smile up at the towering, confident aerial above him. Wings perked higher behind him and he could swear he felt something sly about it, but still very playful and teasing. Nothing cruel, but it was very… seekerly. The gentle smile Koss gave was still oozing with confidence in his actions and he leaned down, placing a kiss at the center of Breakdown’s thrumming chest in an effort to soothe his worries. “Well its not,” he insisted, feeling flustered that Koss said nothing.

He received another kiss to his broad navy chest, the taller mech moving to place them more randomly along his body. Hips dipped inward, nudging his heated panel to Breakdown’s and smiling all the more when the shorter officer gave a startled huff, legs flexing open a fraction and relaxing down again on either side of the aerial.

“Y-You really want to…?” His answer was a second, stronger bump of their covered arrays, Koss grinding lightly against the quickly heating silver panel and basking in the pleasure and the blue mech allowed to pulse out into his field. He huffed and began squirming at the unrelenting pressure being applied to his lower half and swallowed thickly, vocalizer giving a static-y click to reset. “O-okay, if its what you want, we… We could try-”

“WELL since you’re being so insistent,” Koss finally spoke, grinning at his panting object of affection. Breakdown began to stammer out in embarrassment, ready to shame the other but he was quieted by the gentle and focused attention he was receiving. The fusion was careful in his teasing, treating the heavy mech as he would any other smaller bot. Caressing claws pet up and down those thick thighs once more, then up to the juncture of hips and legs, stroking over the hidden cables and protoform there. Back down to thick adorable thighs and then back to tender wires and tubing.

Breakdown had not expected such gentle treatment, huffing and trying to keep his processor clear enough to pay attention to everything. Those damnable servos were going to undo him! He let his helm loll back for a moment, taking a deep vent and cycling the air slowly in his heated systems. It came back out through his seams as warmed air, then again in a startled huff when his panel snapped to the side. He’d never even seen the prompt in his HUD.

He looked down at Koss, who gave an impish smile in return. “Habit? I assume?” Breakdown gave his own playful half grin in return and chuckled, giving a nod and allowing him to continue. Knockout’s medical knowledge seemed to translate into Koss flawlessly, and the habit of going for the emergency release was not lost on Breakdown.

“Don’t worry about it. We both want the same thing in the end,” he offered kindly. Koss moved in closer to give more searing kisses, wanting to seek those lips out again. He had to put more effort into it, though, due to their positioning and the other’s unyielding mountain of chest armor. Finally, another long kiss later, he resumed his more comfortable place between the former stunticon’s legs.

Breakdown gave a startled noise when the heat of Koss’s closed panel pressed against his exposed valve. His spike pressurized out of reflex mostly, used to being the main part of his array getting attention and being put to task. He didn’t mind letting the other take the reigns. He would let Knockout do it as well if he preferred, and he had in the past, just not very frequently. It was never really discussed as they tumbled into berth together, they just allowed themselves to build each other up until they found their way to completion together.

This was still different, he reminded himself. This wasn’t just another tussle with his partner in many crimes. Starscream was perhaps involved in being so certain of where he wanted Koss to be positioned, a factor in how Koss wanted to sit between Breakdown’s legs in some form of dominance perhaps. Koss was entirely zeroed in on Breakdown, watching every subtle shift and twitch, listening to each vent, gasp and kicking up of an internal fan, the way those optics switched to golden-yellow to a deep luminous amber, reflecting how Breakdown was losing the fight between thinking too deeply and being swept up in Koss’s touches.

When he had first pressed his panel against those plump and already lubricated valve lips he’d nearly popped his cover. It was too sweet, seeing the serious and giving soldier finally get some much needed and long overdue affection. His panel would press against those soft folds and then slide upwards, making Breakdown shudder and try to move with him. He rocked back down and the broad chested grounder almost whimpered as if afraid the contact between them would be broken.

“Don’t you fret, darling, I won’t let you go without.” Those heady words were a sweet, delicious promise whispered down to the panting mech at Koss’s mercy. “I’ll never allow you to go without.” Copper faceplate warmed and he almost moaned to him to make more promises, to keep telling him all the good things he wanted to hear. “You just relax and allow me to take care of you. Is that alright?” Breakdown swallowed down the electric whining in his throat and nodded, lips disappearing behind his glossa for a fleeting second as his glossa swept over them. They felt far too parched without those searing kisses on them.

“Mmn, let’s see if I can’t get you to start using your words again?” The teasing tone was back and Breakdown’s engine turned over, making the berth almost rattle under the vibrations of his heavy motor thrumming. Skilled servos, so unfairly skilled, sought out Breakdown’s leg joints and seams, places he would rarely reach on his own due to his frame. He was pleased to see how the bulky mech was still so receptive, twitching and shifting as well protected cables were plucked and teased into a more relaxed state, realigning anything not sitting properly as a good medic should.

The pants and whimpers turned to small pleas and bargaining, promising Koss anything he wanted if he would just stop teasing. On the contrary, it only made the fusion want to play more. His kisses would return far lighter than they needed to be as they trailed down the grounder’s torso and just over that neglected spike. It was fascinating to Koss, being that half of him hadn’t seen it before, giving his other half a unique perspective and appreciation of the weeping appendage.

He couldn’t hold himself back and he gave the aching spike’s tip a kiss, making the broad mech on the slab arch and slam a pede down in an effort to keep still, trying desperately not to shout out how great that tiny smooch had felt.

“No need to hold back. Scream, cry, beg,” Koss purred. “Its expected in my medical bay,” the other dared to jest before moving in to satisfy Breakdown’s needs. His glossa ran the length of the spike, from the thick silvery base, along the blue and gold accented softly ribbed side, circling over the orange tip and its glowing gold node under the blunted head, and then trailing back down the single thick orange nub-lined underside. His lips found purchase near that swollen base and began to suckle at the juncture where the orange row of nubs began and suckled, earning the berth another punishing stamp of the stunticon’s pede. Breakdown’s hips bucked upward in an impatient spasm, then again more slowly and with purpose, trying to get that mouth to travel his spike once more.

Koss wound slender claws over the other’s throbbing cord and began to slide them up, slowly and with only a little bit of pressure. Breakdown was a huge advocate for taking it slow but this was nearly torture, and the most blindingly luxurious torture he could imagine.

“Hoh, oh frag, c-c’mon, Koss,” he whined out to him, “Y-you can’t give me a _little_ more?” He tried to look down at the other but stopped when something warm pressed between his valve’s lips. It wasn’t just warm, _hot_ and slick as he was. It gave a broad swipe, moving over the hooded exterior node and then back down toward the rarely used entrance. Koss pressed his glossa inward only enough that Breakdown knew exactly what it was. It disappeared and the mech began to struggle, huffing and asking worriedly if that was it.

The glossa returned only a short pause later, pushing into the slit and right against the tender, swollen node. It was similar in color to his spike’s node, but it was also larger and far more sensitive from being the hidden away gem it was. Koss’s palm rested on the underside of the twitching spike, positioned so he could crook a finger down to aid his glossa in its mission to drive the sweet soldier wild. There was so much lush, warm mesh he could almost melt away between those sinful thighs for the rest of his days, but there was work to be done and a needy boy to please.

He carefully pulled on the top of the valve, moving the folds a bit at a time, experimentally until he had three digits working. Two on either side to hold him open, and a third in the middle to pull up. It raised the small hood that was helping to hide away his prize and once it was bared to him he brought his searing glossa to it, worshiping this precious glowing gift. Breakdown cried out in bliss, legs trembling and heels digging into the berth to try and push his hips into the ministrations, only to find a firm servo on his abdomen, pushing him back down.

That slick glossa did not slow, did not err from its mission until he could taste the additional lubricants pooling by his chin. He grazed his smooth, hard denta against the tender node, kissed it with his soft derma, wrapped his lips around it and suckled, then pressed it back against the suction with a firm glossa. Breakdown was venting heavily and steam was rising from his seams, vents blasting as his fans did their best to regulate the ever-warming mech.

“OH~! Koss-!! MMN~! PLEASE-! AH, hah… Ahhh~!” He moaned sweetly for the other, and hearing his name called like that made the fusion’s pride swell, feeling acknowledged, accomplished in this way. He was not just some _thing_ his lover inhabited. He was the mech bringing such pleasure to the other, and it was his pleasure in turn.

His glossa delved deeper, seeking out those desperately cycling calipers under that wonderfully sleek and welcoming mesh. He firmed up his agile glossa once more to press inside, wanting to taste him more deeply. The calipers tried to cycle down on him, needing something to satisfy them, something to take hold of and pull deeper inside. He could only offer so much like this, though his hands shifted to participate more. One wrapped around his spike again and began to pump him, matching the steady pace by bobbing his helm slowly to penetrate Breakdown valve shallowly. His other servo found its place above his intake, pinching and rolling that glowing beacon of a node he so admired.

He let Breakdown buck and shift, following those wild hips and not letting up, pausing here and there to better his position or switch what servo was doing what. That large engine was thundering away, revving as he cried out and moaned desperately for release.

“Mmn,” Koss pulled up to lick the pink lubricants from his lips. “So cute, you are,” he hummed to the other. “Tell me, _with your words_ ,” the mech beneath him whined pitifully at the challenge, “Tell me what you want.”

Breakdown opened an optic, not realizing he’d had them shut, and tried to focus on the other. Trembling, his mouth agape, some oral lubricant having run astray past his lips from his unrestrained pleading and venting, he was quite the sight. He took a moment to swallow and lick his dry derma, working his jaw after and wracking his processor on how to make words again.

“I-I, ah-” He shivered and panted softly, vents puffing more steamy air with each huff. “I want you t-to frag me,” he stated, face burning up at the direct request. It felt so naughty to proposition him, even with his legs spread and the other inches from his hungry valve. He was relieved and more excited still when Koss moved over him, resuming a now very desired position between his thighs. He smiled when his legs were tugged upward and over the tops of Koss’s hips. The yank toward the edge of the berth earned a surprised yelp as he was easily scooted closer. Koss had stopped, wide optics on Breakdown and an expression of tense worry that he’d perhaps been too rough.

Laughter bubbled up from Breakdown, deep and stifled at first, but it burst out with a wide grin and a roll to it that was contagious and quirked the corners of Koss’s lips up to laugh haltingly in turn. Neither had expected the grounder to make such a sound, and Breakdown had only been surprised at being handled so easily by someone else for a change. It was definitely a unique experience, feeling like he was at the mercy of another and welcoming it, and so far such trust had not been abused. He was tickled and relieved and excited, and his EM field warmed and swirled, winding outward to reassure Koss. The fusion’s field returned affection and excitement and relief that the other was not stressed in any way.

The levity from the former stunticon warmed Koss’s spark and he leaned down, intent on getting a kiss from that goofy copper-faced mech he adored. They both had gone a spell without sharing another kiss and he was curious of how flushed the other would get at the taste of his own lubricants.

CLUNK.

Koss couldn’t move any closer over the other. Their chests were pressing against one another, Breakdown’s being the lead offender due to its overall height off of his base frame. Now they both broke out in a grins and began to laugh at their misfortune.

“Well now, this just won’t do,” the taller mech chuckled and stood back to look over their positions, analyzing how best to utilize the berth and their height difference and that grounder’s blasted chassis. “Ah, here we go.” He eased Breakdown further back onto the berth and joined him, glad for the other’s patience in getting moved around. Koss lifted one of Breakdown’s legs, straddling the other. He laid almost beside Breakdown so he could reach that sunny face and gave him a peck on the lips, smiling victoriously.

“You ready, big guy?” The question was soft and accompanied by another new feeling for Breakdown, one pressing against his valve lips. The position with Koss at his side and tangled between his legs allowed the other’s spike to meet his array while Koss had access to his intake. He was almost sad he didn’t get to get a look at what he’d be dealing with down there, but it added to the excitement and thrill of it all.

Breakdown brought his arm around Koss, helping to keep their bodies flush against each other and allowing the fusion to not have to reach around his broad pointed shoulders. “Ready as I’ll get,” he smirked. With that, Koss drove his hips upwards smoothly, entering Breakdown slowly but certain this would be a wonderful fit. He didn’t go all in at once, only enough to not risk losing his position inside of the other when he ebbed out and back in to add more length to his careful thrust. His one step back, two steps forward method was careful and quick, allowing Breakdown to adjust and still want for more with every slide.

The blue bruiser gasped when his valve was filled completely, arrays pressed flush and Koss’s spike tip pressed firmly to his ceiling node. This had never happened with Knockout, or any lover for that matter few and diverse as they’d been no one reached this deep. Blunt, thick digits gripped onto Koss’s waist, holding fast and trying hard not to let himself squirm at the buzzing pleasure in his center from that pressure on his inner sweet spot. It was amazing, being so full from the other, and could only hope that he had the same honor of making Knockout feel this good during their trysts. Perhaps Starscream would be joining them in future berth-bound adventures? Or even Koss if he could stay, or should he ever leave if he could return. His thoughts began to scatter into a blurry snow of pleasure when Koss withdrew slightly and pressed back into him fully again.

The aerial held still for a moment, wings fluttering and twitching behind him in his excitement. He wanted Breakdown to adjust, worried it was still too much at once the way he’d invented so sharply. He could feel the under-worked calipers fluttering and kneading over his spike, massaging and acclimating to the new fullness, testing the firmness of the spike they enveloped behind the sleek soft lining. Every tiny fidget, each shift between them was like lighting across their sensor-nets. Breakdown was the first to break the silence between them, aside from their heavy venting and roaring fans.

“Please,” he exvented, using his broad servo to pull Koss’s hips closer to himself and held him there as his valve clenched and the aerial shuddered, groaning happily. “Please start moving.” His golden gaze was warm and welcoming, desiring everything Koss was offering to him. The presence in his valve was driving his desires above all, knowing this was exactly what he wanted and the other was surely the mech to satisfy him.

Not one to deny such a polite request, Koss began to move. He withdrew himself, trying to leave only the tip of his spike in that splendid heat, but he came free and Breakdown whimpered for him. Realigning himself, Koss nudged his way past the first caliper once more, repeating his earlier slow and gentle entry. The movements were so careful and tender that Breakdown swore that Koss was being difficult to tease him. It felt torturous in the best way, making him crave more and begin to twitch and shift for better positioning, wanting him deeper and with more friction than these slow, staggered thrusts inching deeper into him. He almost wanted the mech to pin him down and go wild with passion, frag him with abandon, but instead he was being treated so delicately as though he was the most precious thing that Koss would ever have in his arms. One would almost swear it was both of their first times.

It dawned on the bruiser then that he’d assumed Koss wasn’t sealed anymore, that he’d already taken that eradicon, but to act so careful like this? Had he hurt Steve and was afraid of doing the same to him?

“H-Hey, Koss… You’ve already fragged someone, right?” The other paused, looking to Breakdown in mild surprise that he’d asked that in the middle of their time together for the first time.

“Ah, yes, yes of course I have...” He reset his vocalizer, not intending on sounding so out of sorts. “I had relations with a charming mech not too long ago,” he confirmed.

“You did? Well… I don’t want to tell you how to have a good time but, uh..” Koss leaned up more, looking serious and concern came over his his almost delicately handsome features.

“Are you alright? If you don’t feel comfortable I can stop.” His clawed hand began to pet over Breakdown’s thigh as he tried not to fret, only calming down when the grounder smiled at him.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to be as gentle, y’know? I won’t get damaged as easily as an eradicon.” Breakdown was glad for Koss’s quick thinking that allowed them to be so close. He rubbed lightly up the taller mach’s backstrut, giving him a small kiss and another reassuring smile. Koss chuckled lightly and raised an optic ridge curiously.

“I’m sure you won’t but what… Breakdown I didn’t do _this_ with my little friend.” The two shared an awkward moment of silence and thought.

“But...” Breakdown tried to wrap his processor around this. “… You said you _did_ frag him, right? I’m not mad or nothin’ if you did,” he hoped to coax Koss into being honest if he was afraid of some sort of repercussions from Breakdown.

“Yes, we certainly did ‘frag’. Well, _he_ fragged _me_ if we’re being more specific on what went where.” Breakdown stared, having a hard time imagining this large exotic looking aerial submitting to a single drone in the berth. “Its my first time in this position,” he continued, finally relaxing now that he understood Breakdown’s curiosity. “I want to be certain that you enjoy yourself as much as I do.” He gave a roll of his hips, having been idle for far too long.

“Ah-! Mmm…” Breakdown sighed happily at the movement, nodding in understanding. He shifted his hips back to try and follow Koss’s movement, wanting more of him.

“is it to your liking?” Koss growled softly in his audial and gave a sharper push into the other, a quick entry and slow retreat. Breakdown’s optics had fully shuttered now, fingers trembling over Koss’s hip and side, moving lower to grip his aft. The thrusting stopped and the sound of a soft ‘click’ was audible in the pause of motion and talking. Koss tilted his aft against the other’s servo, withdrawing slightly from the thick valve to do so. Breakdown gave a low growl, not wanting that spike to get any further away. His middle-most digit was met with wet heat and very little resistance. As soon as he felt it he knew Koss was very receptive to the other returning attention to his valve.

“You just can’t keep those mitts to yourself,” the fusion grinned at the other, only to be humbled by the thick, round digit sinking deeper into him. He sighed happily and pressed back into Breakdown, making the digit chase him to keep inside. They found a sporadic pattern of Koss thrusting into the blue mech and in turn impaling himself on Breakdown’s thick digit when he withdrew, only for Breakdown to bury his finger deep in the fusion’s heat and draw him in close, grinding on that throbbing spike and easing up so they could repeat the intense give and take.

They continued without measure or attention to time spent, each pleasuring the other in turns around and around until they were in their own hazy world of steam filled venting and moans, each calling the other’s name and holding tightly to each other to ground themselves somehow. The room filled with the warm ozone of their blazing frames, scent of ozone from their raw desperate interfacing surrounding them and only fueling their desire to continue pleasuring their partner. Hips collided, mouths clashed and vocals hitched and squealed with static, the sounds all overlapping as did their fields, each trying to pull the other closer and not let go.

Koss would stifle himself and Breakdown with needy kisses, pressing their derma together with such force that it felt as if their denta would clink together if he didn’t hold back a little. They both lost track of how long they had been wrapped up in the push and pull of their love making, only stopping once they’d seemingly exhausted each other into a sweltering, panting heap of limbs tangled together, only their color schemes helping to identify whose limbs belonged to who as they were pressed so close together.

The two cons didn’t separate, not until well after they recharged while intertwined. Neither remembered at what point they’d finished, only that they were content to snuggle up and not care about the mess between them and chalked it up as a necessary inconvenience in order to get some quality recharge together.

Morning would come with its own set of surprises. Breakdown hummed and moved his left arm up Koss’s back, finding it more familiar than it had been the night before. He traced his digits up the back plating, up the silken-finish armor, right up between the wheels…

Wheels.

Gold optics flickered online and swept left toward the mech cradled in his arm. A porcelain white faceplate at rest, framed by a sleek crimson speedster’s helm and adorned with those adorable white audial tips on each side. Cherry red armor, high gloss finish, and en EM field so familiar it felt like home. Breakdown almost didn’t believe he was real and that he was online seeing this. He moved to pinch himself and a growl came from his right, something keeping him from moving his right arm. He swung his gaze to his opposite side.

A pouting silver-faced seeker was resting against the flat metal of Breakdown’s upper arm, cradled contently and almost perfectly in the bend of the grounder’s arm. Starscream was clinging to Breakdown’s torso, just under his broad chest, and he could feel those long, slim legs wound atop his right thigh and he weight of Knockout’s treads on his left leg’s lower half. Knockout’s pointed digits twitched and pulled the medic’s arm further across Breakdown’s abdomen and intertwined with Starscream’s, at least Breakdown assumed as much when the movement stopped and the weight of both arms seemed centered in the same spot.

Both of their fields on either side were calm and bound over the, now, largest bot in the room. Carefully, slowly, Breakdown brought his right arm around Starscream’s back, mirroring his hold on the seeker to match his hold on the speedster to his left. The jet gave a quiet hum and shifted, getting more comfortable tucked against his side and not waking from his deep recharge.

With one hand idly spinning one of Knockout’s back-wheels and making the recharging medic hum sweetly, the other smoothed itself along the air commander’s wings, exploring them for the first time. They were so delicate, so thin and sensitive judging from how Starscream hummed, nearly a whine, but his field pulsed happiness. A quiet trill came from his right and Breakdown broke into a smile. That… that was something he never thought he’d hear from the normally haughty and self-assured-acting seeker. So many surprises from these two, from the gift of Koss.

Koss… It felt like a dream, being with him, but now these two in his arms were the reward of giving that gorgeous mech all of himself, and in turn Koss gave him everything he had. He gave him his cherished medic, and a new surprise in the form of a deceptively harmless looking jet asleep at his right. He would cherish what he’d been allowed to experience, what he’d had returned to him, and what he had more to learn about.

He shuttered his optics and let a happy rumble purr out from his chassis, the mechs on either side curling closer and responding subconsciously and sharing their happiness. Breakdown couldn’t worry about what would happen when they all awoke. Nothing existed outside of that medical bay in that moment. He would hold onto that moment, wrap both arms around it and wouldn’t let it go until the moment fought its way out of his grasp. Until then, him and his moment, him and his companions, would remain inseparable.

* * *

~The End~

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or is it?
> 
> Keep in touch! I'm always down to chat and my ask box is always empty
> 
> My Tumblr handle is RobuttsInYourThighs
> 
> Feel free to drop by!


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